Amongst All Creatures Wild and Tame
by Batya
Summary: Newton drifted with some bits of kaiju and a really grumpy German scientist. This might have been a mistake or the best thing ever because Newton is a winner who does not make mistake. A story of what comes after the drift.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't own anything or anybody. Cross posted from AO3**

What happens to a pickled kaiju brain? It's kind of a strange question to ask, but after he invited a piece of fractured hivemind all up in his neural space, he had found himself devoting time to it. Or…well by devoting time...

He and Hermann were still at the Shatterdome post Averted Apocalypse via Genius Rock Star, Newton Geiszler, and handy Neural Load Sidekick, Hermann Gottlieb (with guest appearance by Baby Otachi), for the time being…

Many people were convinced that the kaiju were gone for good, but the world wanted to know more about them, which strings back to Newt, the eminent kaiju expert that he is, will certainly be called to continue his studies. Hermann will be drawn into a similar situation concerning the Rift. The world wanted to fully understand its creation, existence, and the possibility of it reappearing.  
Whether these studies would continue at the Shatterdome or elsewhere is...well, it's only the first day after the world didn't end, so people might change their minds. Also Hermann...

He got in on the neural action at the end there. Newt's fairly positive that Hermann didn't sleep much last night. He didn't ask for confirmation either. They haven't talked much since the drift. There's an unspoken agreement between them. A lot is unspoken because, thank you, drifting. They got to see a pretty piece of the other person's past, and some more religious creatures might say they knew each other's souls now. Newt was a little too scientific for that.

He had fragments. Much like the piece of dead kaiju brain, he had pieces of Hermann in his head. Fragments of memory that were far too personal for 10 year colleagues to share, but there they were. And Newt could barely guess what Hermann had gleaned from the drift.

That day…oh that day…

After Mako and Raleigh surfaced from the fucking anteverse (how does one drop that little fact bomb casually in a sentence or thought?), everyone in the control room breathed a sigh of relief.

There were survivors.  
The world hadn't ended.  
Newt was on a massively intense we-aren't-going-to-die-screaming sort of high. He hadn't really had time to think about the drift after him and Hermann had simultaneously latched on to the most important facts and ran back to the Shatterdome…

Well… more like walked quickly… Hermann was not a runner, and Newt was just about done with physical exertion for the day. Running from Otachi has that effect on people.

But in the Shatterdome, he had grinned and slung an arm around Hermann's shoulders, and the man actually smiled back. Everybody was laughing, and there was even some drinking (some being a serious understatement).

But after a few shots all around, the partying had grown quiet.

There were survivors, and there were casualties.

It hit him right around his fourth drink. He knocked it back, same as the others, but the smile didn't follow. The shouting and the music seemed somewhat muted. A glance across the table showed that Hermann was watching him. He wasn't smiling either. Newt leaned back in his chair

_Woah,_ his brain informed him. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and it wasn't just the alcohol.  
Oh yeah, he drifted twice in… less than 48 hours. Yeah, he had drifted using an antiquated interface that he pieced together. The first drift had been alone.  
He thought felt like shit before, and after adding four shots of vodka into the mix…  
Oh he felt awful.

Hermann wasn't smiling…maybe he felt a bit off? He did throw up right after the drift into a conveniently placed toilet (thank you Otachi for whatever bit of destruction put a toilet right there). Hermann had only drifted once on his own, and dealt with 50% of the neural load in said drift…Newt did some quick math and figured that he had handled 150% neural load over the last 48 hours.

Fuuuuuuuuuck

He mumbled something and stood up from his chair. Tendo and Mako noted the standing, and whatever he had just said, and seemed satisfied. Hermann didn't move. Newton tried to not meet his eyes, when he found his senses flooded.

_Hermann is fifteen years old and a physical therapist grips his calf. She's telling him to push or pull or do something. They've been at this for thirty-six minutes and Hermann is dripping with sweat from the effort and the agony. His hands grip the sides the bed so hard his fingers are numb._

_He has twenty-four minutes to go._

Newt jerked back to the present to find himself staring at the floor. That was good. If he had been staring at Hermann it would have gotten weird.

He needed to get out of there. The air felt like it was suffocating him, and Newt suddenly had the urge to crawl out of his skin. The gaze of his drift partner felt like it could drill holes in his skull. Geez, why couldn't the man just speak like a normal person?

Oh, he would need to throw up in a minute. He was miraculously able to run to the nearest toilet where the remains of the vodka, and what appeared to be traces of his last meal, ended up in the toilet. Well, mostly in the toilet (also strategically placed, but by no doing of Otachi).

He stared at the rim of the bowl, breathing heavily until he was positive nothing else would escape his stomach via his mouth. Once he was certain, he dropped his head onto his arms and slumped down onto the floor.

He hadn't had time to think about the drift, and he wished he had done a little more thinking before those shots. He shut his eyes and scenes from the drift played like some avante garde film behind his eyelids.

_—Kill, maim, destroy feel flesh rip feel buildings crumble joy and—_

_—Somebody decided on giant robots. An inelegant solution to these aliens, but already his mind buzzes with the equations that could build one. Imagine the balance and counter balance required for such a thing to walk. And the size to match those…what are they calling them? Kai—_

_—kaiju tear kaiju kill watch them suffer watch them die_

_—He had been sipping coffee with the tv on. He wasn't awake yet. Suddenly, it was on every channel. This new thing crashing through San Francisco and tearing into a building like it was piece of crusty bread, and he was awake, and scared and excited—_

_—bleed them dry open them up fill them blue dead dying blood kill tear rip die—_

Newt's ears were full of sound, and it took a minute to realize it was his own screaming.

Alone in a toilet.

After drifting with a piece of pickled kaiju brain, followed by a dying baby kaiju.

He dragged himself back up to the rim of the toilet and heaved. He was running on empty.

His hands shook as he wiped his mouth and he sat beside the toilet, feeling sick, dirty, and possibly close to crying. He wiped at his nose with the back of his arm and stared at the red smear that resulted on his skin.

What was his brain going to be after he shared it with a kaiju? Just the thought of kaiju brought sharp, violent, cerulean, thoughts to the surface. He sort of wished Hermann would magically sense his need and appear in this bathroom with him in some convenient display of ghost drift side effects.

But after several minutes of gasping and shaking, no help came.

He had shared his mind with a hivemind and one grumpy mathematician. It had been so very crowded, and now that the world was saved and all was calm…

He felt very alone.

**So one of those memory blips was Newton's own memories idk how clear that is...Also I have been wanting to write something for these two assholes for awhile now. Please note I marked this as slash because I ship them but I doubt this fic will go farther than cuddling**

**Speaking of, I have zero idea where I am going with this. But apparently there will be more than one chapter and I may switch POVs.**

**The title is a lyric from a Mountain Goats song called How to Embrace a Swamp Creature. Fitting right?**

**Oh and idk how often I will be updating this because I just started a new job but lately I have turned to writing when stressed so we will see. Oh and what if every chapter title was a Mountain Goats Lyric...I'm tempted but refraining for now**


	2. Chapter 2

**A parallel for chapter 1 from Hermann's perspective.**

**Chapter 2**

Hermann Gottlieb distinctly knew that his life would inevitably see an increase in misery. He knew it when the kaiju first appeared on his screen, but he realized it acutely the day he found Newton Geiszler with that contraption on his head seizing on the floor.

The idea of 'before' and 'after' is simplistic and tiresome.

And yet his life seems to continually fall into such categories.

Before the kaiju, and After the kaiju.

And now; Before the drift, and After the drift.

Before the breach, Hermann had no understanding of kaiju beyond their basic biological principals and their wanton destruction. Once more unto the breach, dear friends

Once more

And now he knows; it is a mindless, wordless, unending, undying need to kill, and conquer. He now knows what it is to feel joy from watching buildings crumble while tiny beings run screaming in terror of him.

Hermann wants to scream a little bit.

There hadn't been much time post drift to settle and think. His mind was a knot he would have to untangle later. And he did…eventually.

First they saved the world. Mako Mori, Stacker Pentacost, Chuck Hansen, Raleigh Beckett, Herc Hansen, Tendo Choi, Newton, and…well…himself…a bit. He tried not to dwell on the number of people on that list who didn't make it to see a world safe from monsters.

And after everyone still alive was safe, the rest of the night spun away from him in a euphoric haze. Newton had grabbed him in a one armed hug, and he smiled. Staying close to the other man, they walked to the main hanger of the Shatterdome together where the gathering for the Apocalypse Has Been Averted party had begun. Hermann was exhausted, but happy to let the throngs of people sweep him along towards the oncoming merriment.

Newton was talking about something. Hermann barely listened. It sounded like he was recounting some highlight of the day. Was it for him or somebody else? That arm was still draped over his shoulder and he found himself pulled—

—_It's his first tattoo. The tattoo artist is calm and focused. Her hand grips the tool that will inject ink into the dermis layer of his skin. It whirs and hums as she flicks the switch. He expected pain, but this is beyond what he thought he could take. He sits there and doesn't make a sound. He deserves_—

—_endless blue dripping from the sky from the ground it's everywhere kaiju are everwhe_—

—_Mom is shouting at him again. He feels small in the room with her. She takes up all the space in the room and all the air. He tries very hard not to cr_—

—_he is walking, his hand clutches the verdammt cane and his leg ache_s and—

—_crush them all andfeel them break the metal and the bonebite it open tear them apar_—

"Dude, you still with me?" Hermann felt pale and empty. He was still stumbling along as they neared the entrance to the hanger. Newton seemed to have gotten ahead of him and had stopped to wait for Hermann to catch up.

"You ok?" Hermann saw how exhausted and exhilarated the other man looked. Hermann must have looked that way earlier. Now he felt strange, like he was no longer Hermann Gottlieb. Like his sense of self had been misplaced or replaced.  
He simply nodded and followed Dr. Geiszler. He definitely needed a drink.  
Or several

He honestly wasn't sure which was worse; having memories that weren't his own where he delights in the death of humanity, or Newton's memories that he shouldn't have. They're too personal, and Newton must have similar memories of Hermann's past embedded somewhere in that thick skull of his. He would discover them soon enough.

At some point during the drinking frenzy, while was Newton taking a shot with Tendo _(or was it Becket?)_, Hermann noticed Newton flicker as his expression went blank. The flame of his excitement extinguished. Was he remembering the dead? Or was he remembering a memory that wasn't his? Hermann dreaded the answer, and when Newton looked at him in fear, he was quite certain which it was. Next thing he knew, Newton was stumbling out of the hanger. Hermann could only watch him go, his mouth a thin line.

Eventually the noise of the crowd and the smell of alcohol began suffocating him. He stood up and said goodbye to Ms. Mori, Mr. Beckett, and Mr. Choi. They waved at him, giggling and intoxicated.

Hermann trudged down the fairly empty halls. Most of the sane people were either sleeping or drinking. His cane tapped an unsteady rhythm that echoed down the hallway and back in his ears.

After the noise, the people, and the voices that had inhabited his mind died down, the quiet was…unsettling. Eventually he reached the door to his room and sat on the step in front of it. Something about shutting himself away, by himself, in the dark, was abruptly and irrationally terrifying.

He leaned his head against the door.

Hermann was very stupid, said a voice in his head. But was the voice his own or somebody else's? He couldn't say.

**Geez I am a bucket of laughs aren't I? I swear I like happy fics I just apparently needed to start this in the most depressing way possible.**  
**I kind of want to write a longer fic but I never do that so we will see what happens next.**

**Also yes I made a Shakespeare reference I have been on a bit of a kick with him lately**


	3. Chapter 3

—_He is surrounded by them; drowning in sapphire. He needs to run but he can't get away. The weight is crushing him. They step closer and smile. Someone is shouting about equations, but nobody is listening_—

Newt opens his eyes.

It is the morning after the world didn't end, and Newt has a realization that something might be wrong with him.  
Is 'wrong' the right word?  
What would the word be?  
Well, he knew the words that might apply to the current situation. Words he didn't want to speak aloud, let alone think.

Last night, after puking in the toilet followed by some other stuff…possibly crying…maybe crying…ok fine, he was crying. He hobbled back to his quarters in a semi drunken stupor. He thought it was just the alcohol, but this morning he woke up and…wow. This was not good.  
He had not drunk nearly enough to feel this hungover…certainly not enough to feel like maybe his head would be more useful if it were removed from his shoulders.

Eventually he tries to move and wow…body not wanting to obey mind…not good…very not good. He stands and fumbles with his glasses. Wow his eyes hurt. And wearing his glasses has no effect on the pain but it makes him really dizzy.

The cogs are turning very slowly.

Oh look, there's blood on his pillow.

.

.

Shit, that's not good.

Fragments of the previous night slowly begin to trickle back to him.

World saving

Hermann staring

The d . . .

Newt can't remember the drift.

There's nothing but blue and hobbling with a cane because, fuck his leg hurt

Hermann's leg

He can't really remember the drift

His brain has overloaded

His brain has adapted

…or tri e d…

…to a d ap t…

Oh right, he was still standing.

He should go put clothes on.

How did that go again?

By some miracle he manages to successfully put on pants, but when he realizes his shirt is on inside out, it takes him a full minute of staring at the inner seams to figure out what the next step is.

That's when the thought that something might be wrong slowly drips down into the pit of his stomach.

The words he doesn't want to use are 'brain damage'.

Who has brain damage?

Did the kaiju damaged his brain?

The kaiju were all dead now—

—_we will find them we will cut them rip them kill killkill kaiju seek kaiju destro_—

Newt is on the floor, gasping.

His nose is bleeding and the shaking has intensified.

_Intensely intensifies_, his brain mutters unhelpfully, while another part informs him _this is how super villains are made. _Thanks for that.

After lying there for awhile and becoming increasingly afraid of his own brain, he struggles to his feet again, because…honestly, he was a little afraid of what might happen if he just stayed in this room alone with his mind.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to fix his shirt. He possibly, maybe, sort of, bled on it…a little bit.

He was pretty sure it wasn't that bad.

He slowly grabs a jacket from his closet. Not the leather one that had been covered in kaiju guts- oh god he just managed to stand _stop it, Newton._

This one is not_ nearly_ as cool; it's just some old jacket, but it'll do. It'll probably cover up that blood spot on his shirt, so that's a win.

And after wrestling with which arm to put through which sleeve of the jacket, he manages to get out the door, and head for the K-science lab.  
Not medical…noooope…not medical. Nowhere near medical.

Nope, Newt is fine.

Newt is dandy.

Newt is walking and that is also a win.

Because Newt is a winner.

A winner of science and averting the apocalypse like a rock star.

And most definitely not brain damaged.

_Nope_.

**So this is kind of an odd one. I know it's unclear but I definitely think that post second drift Newton might be pretty messed up. I kind of drew on my experiences of waking up after medical procedures where they knocked me out. I did once sit there and stare at my shirt inside out before I was like oh I should fix that. All the spacing and weird is trying to communicate that really slowed down thought process. I think the next chapter will have actual talking I swear.**

**AND REFERENCES: Um Newton was born in 1990 which means he was a twenty something when Community aired so yes that line is a community reference because I firmly believe Newton loved Community. Also the line before it is just a stupid meme. Newt would know about those too I think. Newton would have been on Tumblr.**

**And so at this point I have to just mention that I have been reading a lot of Newton and Herm fic and while I am literally pulling this out of my ass as I go, I cannot deny I see some parallels to some great stuff I've read. Y'all should read Designations Congruent with Things by cleanwhiteroom and also the From Out of The Ocean Risen series.**


	4. Chapter 4

**All chapters have been edited by my rockstar sister. She is Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr**

**Chapter 4**

Waking up the next day has not been fun for Hermann. The experience was somewhat akin to the worst hangover he had ever experienced. He finds himself having difficulty remembering what had happened the day before, but as it all pieces together; he realizes he can't remember the drift.

Clearly he was compartmentalizing, or his mind has done it for him. Some part of him concluded that his mind couldn't handle the full effects of a drift on subpar equipment where one third of the drift was kaiju. He can recall flashes of what he experienced post drift. He can even vaguely recall the hellish nightmare he had just woken from; kaiju being ripped from his skin were tearing him to pieces.

He supposes his subconscious now has plenty of material to torture him with for the foreseeable future. It also appears he had gotten a small nosebleed while he had slept; a few dots on the pillow, nothing more. He should probably go to medical, and yet some part of him seemed vehemently opposed to going to sit in an enclosed spaced and let someone with a medical doctorate examine him.

Why does he feel this way? Could it possibly be some strange drift side effect? A slight bleeding between personalities?

_ Gutte got_. Wasn't it enough that he saved that idiot man? He can imagine, with a vague sense of dread, Newton standing in a clean pressed shirt, his mouth in a thin line with one eyebrow raised. The image makes Hermann shudder. Newton was barely tolerable as Newton, let alone as Hermann.

He was dwelling when really; he wanted to get to the lab. The rift may be gone, but he can still study it. He can study how it collapsed; how it had appeared; whether the rift might open again.

He heads for his chalkboard in the lab, for there is always safety in numbers. An hour or two passes, alone with his equations, where he's able to forget that his leg hurts from all the running he had done.

Then, Newton walks in.

Well, stumbles in.

Hermann loathes tearing himself away from the formula he's working on, but he turns anyway, and Newton is…well, disheveled was a kind word. Newton had managed to dig up a leather jacket; it was a bit big on him, and it didn't quite cover the stain on his shirt. His hair was as tangled and messy as the rest of him. Hermann opens his mouth to speak.  
Memories of the previous night flitted through his mind; memories that aren't his. He reddens and turns away. He's almost afraid that Newton might want to compare notes. Instead, Newton is…quiet. Hermann watches from the corner of his eye as Newton looks at him, then turns away to wander unsteadily towards his desk. He practically falls out of his chair while trying to sit in it, and once successfully seated, did nothing but stare at the floor for a full minute before moving.  
The words tumble out of his mouth before he has a chance to consider them…another Geiszlerian moment. "Are you drunk again, Newton?" The question hangs in the air for a long moment. Newton doesn't look at him, and after a couple of seconds, he finally responds.  
"Noooope," he raises a hand like he is going to gesture with it, but seems to change his mind and clutch it back. His movements are slow; another oddity for Geiszler, considering the man usually seems to be running at twice the speed of everyone around him. Nowthe dial has been turned all the way back, and Hermann has seen him after parties. This is a whole new level of...

Newton seizing on the floor.  
Two drifts.

Oh god Hermann is an idiot. He feels odd after his one drift, identifying actions and traits that don't belong to him, and he hasn't even begun to allow himself to think about the kaiju. What would happen if he started acting like them?

And Newton drifted.  
Twice.  
Oh no.

He grabs his cane and hobbles across the room as Newton turns to look at him, his expression alarmed.  
"You need to go to medical," Hermann states, not leaving any room for suggestion.  
"No, _you_ need to go to medical," Newton replies, not unlike a child. Hermann grips his cane tightly. He does not like having this conversation, nor where it might go.  
"Newton, you drifted twice on junkyard equipment _with a kaiju_. You need to be examined."  
"No way, dude. I'll take some Tylenol, or whatever," he flaps a hand, but Hermann sees the tremor in the movement. Newton watches as Hermann's eyes follow his hand and makes a sound.  
"Dude, its fine, look" he crumples up a piece of paper and lobs it at his trash can. It misses by several inches.  
"See? Look at that. That is way closer than usual. That is a win, Herm, and also I'm fine. Go away." Newton says casually, his speech speeding up as he talks. Towards the end, it sounds almost normal. And yet Hermann is angry, because Newton is most probably very far from fine. Miles from something remotely even close to fine, and naturally that idiot would refuse something sensible like medical care. And maybe…  
Maybe...  
Maybe there's a slight possibility that Hermann could make himself go to medical if he was with Newton? Why in heaven's name does he think that? He has no independence from this insufferable man who is currently smiling up at him, looking worse than he has ever been before, and so utterly complacent?People are supposed to get along after the drift, but of course with someone like Newton, they would only get worse.  
He exhales through his teeth, his breath sounding more like a hiss than normal human breath, and quickly turns away, praying that Newton didn't notice how very kaiju-like it had sounded. He wonders what kafka-esque scenario might play out if a medical professional does not intervene, and he feels a deep unabiding terror for what a doctor might tell them rise within him.

**Wow I almost didn't get this out...it might suck a little...I really don't know where I'm going with it but I have ideas...and like...man I don't know medicine...I kind of figure Hermann is mostly going to get over this like one would a bad hangover or migraine...unless he is pressured in some way he is mostly ok but I think Newton might be almost bipolar for a bit. He might go through phases where he is really slow and tired and possibly depressed and then he will have his manic periods too...I said brain damage earlier but that was Newt guessing and well...Again I'm not a doctor**


	5. Chapter 5

**And now edited by my sister! Check her out on tumblr as Thepsychoticchef!**

**Chapter 5**

So**,** Hermann seemed pretty mad about things.

After he tried to get Newt to go to medical, which was a terrible idea (why would he suggest something so awful?), he stormed back to his side of the lab. To his safe number-y space on the other side of that duct tape line, where he resumed writing on his chalkboard with a kind of violent gusto that was a bit fascinating to watch. Newton had come in here to do something…

…to do science…

Yeah…

Unfortunately his entire area of expertise is on a race of aliens that he helped annihilate, and some pieces of said alien race are currently floating in sickly yellows and greens encased in glass.

He is surrounded by pickled kaiju when really he prefers kosher dills.

Pickles are funny. He should think about pickles and not about all the malicious aliens he had helped exterminate. Especially not the one he drifted with as it died. He can't remember it's final thought but he remembers thoughts too big for his mind. Were they like humans when they died? Did they curl up and bleed out slowly and painfully? Did they have the capacity to weep in agony? Did they die screaming? Did they—

—_This is not end kaiju do not end kaiju continue kaiju kill pain kaiju maim death kaiju end death kill dying_—

No, no, this can't be how it is it can't be.  
Memories that aren't his.  
He is going to die by his own brain.  
He collapses onto the floor.  
_"Newton!" _  
The sensation of drifting with a dying creature over and over again  
_ —kaiju maim death—_  
he doesn't feel the floor  
"Answer me!"  
_—enddeath—_  
He can't see he can't hear he can't breathe—  
_killdying—_  
He seizes.

He stops.

He

lies

t he re

Hands are t ouch ing hi m. Somet hing is u nder his h ead.

He's moved onto his side…And a voice…

"Newton can you hear me?"

Voice shakes

A hand on his shoulder

Hermann's hand.

"Newton? Please say something?"

Make the mouth move

"Some" Close enough.

Hermann's sighs and then gets angry. "You stupid ingrate! Has this happened before?"  
"Wha?" his mouth feels weird. He wants to touch the kaiju pickle jars.  
"Can you stand?" Hermann looks like he could rip somebody's face off. What does he do with a face that isn't on a head? What is a kaiju without half a brain? He feels like he might stop breathing again.

_"Newton Focus!" _ Hermann practically shouts in his face. _"Do you need help standing?"_ He is really enunciating his words…if he rolls an r Newton might be in trouble. How's the mouth feeling now?

"I don't know?" Not bad. He sounds strange in his own ears. Like something keening. Or possibly dying.

Hermann glares at him fiercely. It's pretty murderous, but they are in a really death-y sort of space right now, so Newt can forgive that.

Hermann stands up with some difficulty, white knuckling his cane as he reaches down to grab Newt by the forearm. Newt allows himself to be tugged upwards. Once standing, Hermann lets go of Newt's forearm; slowly. Newt wobbles slightly, and Hermann's arm is back, weaving itself weaving around his middle. Hermann looks disgusted by everything, but allows Newt to lean into him for support.

Where did Hermann's big jacket go? Oh it's crumpled on the floor.

"Where are we going?" Newt finally thinks to ask. Hermann looks away, but Newt catches a flash of something that isn't anger spread across Hermann's face; it scares him. Hermann answers him softly.

"We are going to get examined. You just had a seizure. Let some professionals have a look at you."

Nope

"No." He untangles himself from Hermann and stumbles away. He's unsteady, but manages to find his desk and leans on it.

_"Newton you just had a seizure!"_ Hermann practically spits it at him. His face his reddening with rage.

_"Yeah and?"_ Newt can shout too.

Hermann looks ready to physically detonate when a voice interrupts.

"Are you both alright?" Mako stands alone in the doorway, wide eyed and disheveled. She looks like she woke up from last night's party and just decided to take a walk through the Shatterdome. She doesn't look at all like she just helped save the world.

Hermann doesn't deflate, so much as fall into himself.

"Fine. Do as you like, Newton." He picks his jacket up off the floor...Oh right Newt had been lying there.

Hermann brushes by the other man and is out the door with no parting words aside from "Good day, Miss Mori."

Suddenly, Mako and Newt are left alone.

"Dr. Geiszler, do you need a tissue?" Mako asks softly after watching the other man depart in a blaze of quiet fury. Newt is confused until he reaches up to touch his face and sees red on his fingers, again.

He stares at his hand until some white paper is placed over it.

Mako's eyes are red rimmed, and her mouth is tight, but she gives him a small smile.

"Dr. Gottlieb sounded concerned." Her words are soft as ever and carefully spoken.

"He sounded pissed." Newt answers with a wave of his hand. She shrugs.

"I cannot say. I do not know him as you do."

Really? Hermann poured his heart and soul into those Jaegers, and Mako was always there watching as they were pieced together from the ground up. And so was Hermann.

Honestly, it was no wonder they hated each other when Hermann's passion was the Jaegers, and his were the killing kind that destroyed them.

He shook his head and wiped his nose.

"I think you have that wrong, dude."

She locked him down with a look. "I think I'm not," the gaze broke with a sigh. "I must be going…if you are having trouble and you need someone to speak to…" she trailed off

"Thanks Mako,"

She nodded, bowed her head, and was out the door.

Now he was alone, with the pickled kaiju.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing…

He couldn't say.

**I wrote a Mako! I love the whole cast of Pacific Rim and I do want to do more with side characters. I think next chapter might have Herc or Tendo.**

**Also I googled physical symptoms of a seizure and yeah that whole bit...there was no commas or periods...that was intentional. Idk what it added but I was hoping it would add to the intensity or something. And yeah the spacing thing. I'm hoping that is a little easier on the eyes than endless ellipses. It is just meant to indicate that things are slowing way down. Like slow motion slow but in Newt's head.**

**Also I made a supercos reference because THEY ARE THE BEST THING**

**Comments make me happy if you have any!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you again to my sister, thepsychoticchef on Tumblr, queen of commas and fixer of errors**

**Chapter 6**

Hermann is…

He starts but can't seem to finish this thought.

What is he now? Is he a strange conglomeration of mathematician, idiot biologist, and alien species? If not literally then mentally? It's becoming more defined now that the flashes have started in earnest.

He walks through the Shatterdome, not really paying attention to where he's going because everything is bleeding blue. He's seeing triplicate lives overlapping and is having difficulty remembering which is his own.

_–He's running away from home. His feet pounding against the pavement while his backpack bounces against his back. Is this stupid or best idea ever? – Monsters are crushing the world underfoot and he can't configure the data –We do not sleep we do not stop – Configure the data into a recognizable pattern – He hung out in the lab because it was awesome, and eventually he wore the teacher down so he could – He remembers the day when Caitlin died. How they had to pry her body from the device she was testing. Her first drift had not been stable. It had affected her mental capabili–kill kill killkillkil–_

He loses his grip on his cane and stumbles.

For a brief moment it felt as though his heart might have physically stopped. He leans against a wall, gasping and shaking.

"Dr. Gottlieb, you ok?"

Officer Hercules Hansen is standing in the hall a few feet ahead of Hermann, looking rather unruffled considering the previous day's events; although perhaps it was just that he always had a fair amount of stubble and dark circles under his eyes. He seems uncertain in his stance. Perhaps it is because he has never spoken to Hermann unless it pertained to the Jaegers.

But an apocalypse was recently averted.

It seems everyone is struggling in new and strange rhythms.

A voice that sounds an awful lot like Newton informs him, '_Dude, you threw off my groove!_' A strange non-sequiter from a film he has never seen, and yet he can suddenly and inexplicably recite an entire scene from it.

He still hasn't spoken, but he's working on regaining composure. Officer Hansen is still standing there…still unsure…but patient.

"I…" he begins, but realizes that he has no idea what he wishes to convey. Does anyone in the PPDC know that he and Newton drifted? Should they find out? He should say something.

"I seem to be having an unusual day."

Officer Hansen raises his eyebrows and then he…of all things…he laughs. short, sharp, and gone in a flash, but a sardonic smile remains. Hermann stares at him, bemused.

"Dr. Gottlieb, that is one hell of an understatement," he says with continued humor. Hermann's lip twitches into a hint of a smile.

"I can see how it would be perceived as such," he says only somewhat stiffly.

"Well, you look like shit right now, and I haven't eaten anything yet. Come on," Officer Hansen nods in the direction of the mess hall and sets off at an easy pace.

Hermann follows.

A few minutes later they arrive at the mess hall and he is making Hermann sit.

"I'll grab us some trays."

"I am perfectly able to get food for myself…I believe it's 'Marshall' now?" The vehemence trailed off under the weight of his need to address the man appropriately.

Officer…Marshall Hansen stares at him, and for a brief moment, he looks a lot older.

"I'm getting you food because you look like death frozen over, and not because of your leg. So sit your ass down and I'll be back in a minute," his words lack the bite they might have once held.

"And the 'Marshall' thing isn't exactly official yet, so don't worry about it." With that said he heads off into the mess lineto grab their trays, and Hermann decides that he isn't annoyed with Officer Hansen's sudden need to be helpful to others.

When he returns with two trays loaded with eggs, a muffin, and coffee, Herman says, "By the way, Officer Hansen, I should have said so earlier, but…I am sorry for your loss."

The man freezes for a brief moment before setting the trays down and sitting across from Hermann.

The former ranger levels the doctor with an intense gaze.

"For future reference, it might be best if you didn't spring your condolences on me without warning…"

Hermann opens his mouth to apologize, but the man waves it away with an odd expression.

"I haven't really…ah…_adjusted_ might be the word. I keep forgetting, you know?" he says it to Hermann, and to the eggs on his plate, and the ceiling. It seems like he doesn't want to stare at one thing for too long; doesn't want to dwell.

Hermann nods but he is already switching topics.

"Today is not the day to ask me about Chuck, but I am curious to know why you were on the verge of a heart attack in the hall back there," he says it in an almost amiable fashion. The way one might inquire to their friend about a recent sporting event.

Hermann opens his mouth to answer and shuts it. New and old sets of instincts are warring in a way that stings at the back of his skull.

Finally, he settles on an answer,

"What if I were to say I can't tell you right now, but that's it is not an immediate emergency to anyone but myself."

Officer Hansen was just getting ready to shovel some egg into his mouth. His fork pauses and hovers before his mouth.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with Dr. Geiszler, would it?"

Damn him to hell. Hermann turns bright pink and stares at the table choosing not to respond.

"Alright, Hermann, relax. Just…maybe tell me about it someday. I bet it's one hell of a story." He takes his bite of eggs, shooting Hermann a friendly but piercing look. It's unnerving, yet slightly comforting all at once.

Hermann simply nods and reaches for his fork.

They eat in a companionable silence as the Shatterdome slowly wakes up around them.

It's almost noon, and Hermann is still thinking about the phrase 'one hell of a story'

This has two meanings.

The better meaning is simply a wild tale to tell one day.

The other is….well…a hellish story.

He wonders which it will be in the end, and unfortunately, he leans towards the latter.

**Oh heavens ok...so the eggs have a whole story that the world may know SOMEDAY...it was tragic on a Shakespearean level.**

**Also ok...so the prose is pretty much Hermann's POV...it is reflecting his thoughts 99% of the time...and Hermann would not call Herc...Herc...he probably wouldn't even call him Hercules, it's not like they know each other that well. He would call him by his title...but Mr. Hansen sounded awful in prose...he is technically maybe Marshall but thats not official...he could just call him Hansen but that also sounded awful...soooo**  
**Officer Hansen...:C**  
**Honestly they are going to get to first names in the next chapter because 'officer hansen' makes my eyes bleed**

**If you have any comments I would love to read them!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter is beta's by my sister thepsychoticchef on tumblr. Corrections are currently underway...more commas may be added in the coming hours/day**

Chapter 7

Newt sits and stares at the floating kaiju pieces for a long time. Pickled kaiju. In a jar.

What is he going to do with this information?

It's not new information. It's old actually, really old.

One of the smaller tanks has a piece of claw off of Meathead that he received two years ago. It's still here.

And the brain; the big, dead, pickled brain…Kaiju don't think in terms of names, and he is pretty sure it's Tailsplitter's brain, but he can barely remember where his cane is. He can't be sure of things like that

He probably shouldn't have shouted at Hermann

He wonders what would happen if he dove into the tank and got right up next to that brain. What would happen if he touched it?

_'Formaldehyde, Newton.'_ His brain informs him viciously, sounding a little British? Weird.

So, he won't jump in with the kaiju brain. Probably…possibly…it's like, 50/50 at this point.

Why does Hermann want to go to the medical bay so badly anyway? They're both standing and talking. That's pretty awesome.

Ok, Newt kind of lost both those capabilities for a short time earlier, but he's fine. No big deal.

People have seizures sometimes. He bets loads of cool people have seizures _all the time_. And it was just a little one. He can walk it off. Because he is a winner

_'Keep telling yourself that, Geiszler.'_

What is with the British inner voice today?

It's no big thing…he tells himself and tries to remember something important.

There was something important.

After that first drift his whole brain felt a little sticky. The hours that followed were tinted blue.

He had regained consciousness to a panicked Hermann who was sort of holding him? He was holding Newt, wasn't he? When he went to get Stacker…did he shout '_I order you not to die' before running off_? Then Stacker was there, demanding all the new information free floating through his overloaded brain. His entire cerebral cortex felt like it had been unhooked from his brain stem and was drifting away.

Stacker was asking for answers, and Newt dredged up what he could from the wreckage. Then Stacker told him he would have to drift again. He would have to find a fresh brain.

Stacker gripped Newt's arm and marched him past Hermann, who gave him a tight lipped salute and radiated fury as they passed.

After they exited the lab, Stacker told him _'Just a quick run to the medical bay. I don't need you collapsing out there because we got stupid.'_ Suddenly, they were in medical, and wow, he hated the scanners that took forever. Stacker did too.

He did a lot of talking and demanded that Newt be ready to go in an hour. He didn't mention the possibility of Newt being unfit for it.

There were two professionals assessing him. One was a female middle eastern lab tech with black hair wrapped in a grey hijab. The other was a male doctor who was…he doesn't remember him very well. He was tall.

The doctor examined him while the tech did…yeah, he doesn't remember that either. He remembers the tech deleting or shredding some scans. She was talking very fast and her words had only the faintest lilt of her homeland. What was she saying?

"If at all possible, _do not drift with the kaiju again_. If that's not possible, then do not come here for treatment. Some of this is already on record and I can't fix that, but if you come here again there is going to be some bureaucratic oversight bullshit…" She kept talking, and at some point, Newt might have mumbled something about his deep approval of the seriously anarchist leanings this chick had. She might have glared at him.

Her name was Dr. Siddiq…right…Gia Siddiq…had she given him a card or something? He should track that down.

"If they find out you drifted with a kaiju, and if it happens again, just…if you come here I am about 89.7 percent positive this will end with your brain being dissected in a government lab." She had serious eyes and a hard mouth.

"But, the whole world saving thing?" he asked. After he said it he realized it sounded really pretentious. She grimaced and sighed.

"Go help save the world, Dr. Geiszler. If we all survive, please be aware of your options. I happen to be a fan of continuing life, but others are much more interested in research then life." Said Dr. Siddiq

"But…I'm interested in research." He replied.

"I know," she told him…

Around that exchange was probably the bit with the card. Gia said something to that doctor about their hour being up before the machine could finish the scan. Scans would have to wait. Next thing he knew he was out on the streets of Hong Kong searching for Hannibal Chau.

And yeah…right…_shit_

So that was the thing about medical…he had always been suspicious of doctors, but he hadn't had to deal with them much? He would completely understand a scientist wanting to dissect his brain…he kind of wanted to know what the inside of his brain looked like right now.

But he is using his brain right now, thank you very much, imaginary doctors…you can't have it right now.

Should he tell Hermann this? Hermann has been so rage-y that Newt is inclined to let it rest. Hermann won't do anything too stupid today…he's a pretty smart dude. The situation is basically fine and under control.

He also doesn't feel like moving.

The clock on Hermann's desk tells him it is 2 in the afternoon. He just wants to go to sleep.

_Ugh._

**Ok wooooo *pops open imaginary champaigne bottle***  
**First OC of this fic woooo. I played the game of 'what nationality ISNT in Pacific Rim' and I like her a lot. She may come back if there is room for it.**

**10 points to gryffindor if you can find my shitty pun thats so random.**

**As always comments are appreciated and Shiloh you are a darling forever. I'm just going to keep stating it for a bit I think. If I ever don't say it you should infer it :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter has now been beta'd by my lovely sister Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr :)**

**Chapter 8**

After breakfast, Hermann politely excused himself from Hansen's company. He laughed at Hermann's formality, saying there was no need for it and that he had some things to take care of, "so no worries, mate".

Hermann left the mess hall and wandered the halls of the PPDC. It was around two in the afternoon and he still felt vaguely ill; his brain was throbbing and his stomach was still churning

He refused to acknowledge it.

Newton was most likely still in the lab and Hermann refused to be in the same room with him at present. The man did not seem to want or care for his help.

Well that was just fine, he had done his part to stop Newton's self destruction. For all the good it had done him.

Whatever the case may be, Hermann didn't think he could bear Newton's presence, so he chose to wander aimlessly around the Shatterdome, and eventually found himself on the balcony overlooking Jaeger Bay. He used to come here and enjoy being at eye level with the machines.

Now it was empty; a strange sight indeed. He hasn't seen the room so bare since their initial transfer to Hong Kong, back when the funding was cut and they were scrabbling to get any semblance of a force together.

He stares at the walls and they stare back. What do the walls remind him of? The destructive force he had helped build? He feels strangely divisive about the Jaeger. Part of him feels such a deep bitterness that he had never gotten the chance to pilot one. He still feels that in his bones.

And yet some new part of him hates the Jaegers. They may have saved the earth but they caused so much destruction. They killed as much as they cured the problem. Who feels that way? Was it him? Was it Newton? Was it the Kaiju?

How long has he been standing there leaning on his cane before a noise startles him from his thoughts. A small sigh makes him turn. Apparently he is not alone.

Mako is sitting on the floor with her knees folded to her chest; her arms wrapped loosely around them. She looks up at him with an odd expression.

"I just wanted to…" Hermann faces her as his uncomfortable explanation aborts itself. Mako simply nods and looked back at the empty room. She seems pensive.

Was she remembering Marshall Pentacost marching around this room shouting orders in that booming voice of his? Was she remembering the Wei Triplets or the Kaidonovskys?

He too turns and stares at the walls that glare without the Jaegers to hide behind. At the bottom floor a few people are milling around, but they lack purpose.

"It won't be empty forever, Dr. Gottlieb," she speaks softly and he turns to her looking a little bewildered. She simply continues,

"As I understand it, calls are being made to have any remaining Jaegers brought here for upkeep and repair," her voice remains neutral, but Hermann can see her eyes glinting in the dim.

"Surely the program is being scrapped now?" he asks. She gives him an odd look.

"I think it would be safe to say that the PPDC would like to be prepared."

He mets her gaze uncertainly, his stomach dropping in slow increments.

"Being prepared is certainly a wise decision." He responds.

_'Oooh…cagey' _says a voice in his head, sounding utterly American. He resists the urge to shake his head as if to silence the voice. He finds that if he focuses too hard on the blue of Ms. Mori's hair, his thoughts might be pulled somewhere he does not want. She stands up from her place on the floor and steps towards him. She is still eyeing him…assessing him.

"I think…you might want to be careful, Dr. Gottlieb; you and Dr. Geiszler."

"Would it be possible for you to tell me what has you so concerned?" Hermann asks. She looks at him and bites her lip.

"I think you should talk to Marshall Hansen."

"I spoke to him just this morning," Hermann's voice wants to rise in annoyance, but he manages to maintain a reasonable volume.

"Speak to him again, Hermann…It's too soon to tell, but…" She stares out at the empty bay. For a moment, it is as though she was seeing something he could not. It forcibly reminds him of the late Marshall. It also reminds him of the sober little girl who had once sat in his lab, staring fixedly at his chalkboard for 30 minutes while waiting for Mr. Pentacost to come back from whatever errand he had been running.

Finally, she meets his gaze again looking far too young and so very old. He nods and turns, heading for the door, feeling a deep paralyzing dread. He glances back to see her staring out again. A lone figure in a vast empty space.

"Do you wish to avoid your drift partner Ms. Mori?" he asks her. Now it was her turn to look surprised and his lip quirks.

"I understand the sentiment…" he trails off not knowing what else to say and wanting to run to find soon to be Marshall Hansen. But this room is so quiet and dark the idea of hiding here for the forseeable future is a tempting notion. Even with the staring walls and the air tinged with nostalgia.

Mako nods.

"Talk to the Marshall Dr. Gottlieb…" she too looks like there was more she wishes to say but she turns away instead.

He takes her meaning and makes his way out as quickly as he can. His leg aches and there are still foreign thoughts drifting through his skull, but that would have to be set aside for now.

He has to have a talk with the new Marshall, and he is dreading it with every fiber of being.

**So as always comments are super appreciated.**  
**Also this is an odd chapter...it's sort of a placeholder and I don't fully know what it is Herc has to tell Hermann...I have an idea though.**  
**And I got really weird and abstract with the walls...walls have personality in my fics ok? just...yeah shut up batya**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter has now been beta'd by my lovely sister. Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr**

**Chapter 9**

He feels the separation of his consciousness. He feels the fault lines where his mind splits in triplicate, like a cell after mitosis. He feels his head resting against his hands.

He is coming back to himself in increments.

By degrees.

The fog is not clearing so much as it is moving to the corners. It sits in a thin haze over all his thoughts and at the corners of his vision.

He wonders about the new thoughts in his brain and wonders which belong to him.

There's the need to kill; a violent, cutting need that he is pretty sure is kaiju. It feels alien in his mind.

But then there's the math, and the science, and he wonders which one of them needs the cane and which one has a secret love of Lilo & Stitch? Which of them was bullied as a child and which had the parents that didn't know how to handle a kid that smart? Which one of them got lost in numbers, because even the irrational numbers made sense when the world was being reduced to rubble around them? Which one of them liked to take things apart and see what made them work?

Which one of them was too scared to feel and which one felt too much?

Which one of them blamed a suicidal scientific experiment on the others stubborn correctness?

Which one of them found the other in a heap on the floor, and was so overwhelmed by panic, that they could only hold onto the other and pray they would come back from this?

His hands are not doing anything for the pain in his head or the sticky feeling in his stomach.

He had drifted with a Kaiju, and the words of Dr. Siddiq painted a clear picture of what would happen if he went to the PPDC for medical help. He would be in pieces, like the kaiju he had been dissecting for years.

But he never did manage to communicate this to Hermann, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that the I dotting, T crossing bastard, would probably go and openly tell the doctors everything and request all sorts of tests and they would know.

They would know about Hermann drifting with him and a dying kaiju.

Maybe they know already? But do they actually know?

Things were pretty hectic at the end, and he seriously doubted that any officials were really closely monitoring anything other than their imminent demise via kaiju

But, Hermann might tell them all sorts of stuff, and well…Newt hasn't really recovered his entire mental faculties yet, but he does remember that the guy probably saved his life twice over the course of two days. Maybe three times if he counted that…whatever that fit was…Hermann did something while Newt had lost track of reality, and existence, and breathing. Yeah, he probably did something helpful and sensible.

And now that Newt is really thinking about Hermann, it occurs to him that he probably hasn't said anything resembling a 'thank you'. That hits him kinda hard, because…fuck…the dude risked frying his brain to keep Newt's intact, and Newt now has a pretty clear understanding of how much Hermann values his own mind.

It's the only thing he particularly likes about himself, and even that isn't quite true, but still..

He should have said some of that shit that normal people say. Like, 'thanks for saving my brain dude', or 'sorry I mentally contaminated your psyche', or something like that… It's just really hard because he feels pretty torn between wanting to give the guy a hug, or punch him in the face.

Is Newton the one that speaks German with a British accent?

He stands up because that seems like the thing to do, although his body objects to this loudly and with some interesting biological responses.

Like extreme dizziness as his blood decides where to pool. He leans against his desk until his vision clears. When it does, he sniffs and shakes his head a little.

_Awesome, Geiszler…you got this._

This is what he tells himself as he tries to recall which of them was so into boundaries and privacy, and which of them liked to tear apart buildings.

He steps outside the lab, trying to remember if he is the one who walks with large heavy feet that make the ground shake, or if he walks stiffly with a bad knee.

But it's cool, it's all good.

It's fine.

He is going to talk to Hermann and hopefully he won't shout at him this time, even though the man was asking for it. Even though he wasn't.

But focus on the walking right now, because Newt's legs are kind of trying to limp, stomp, and function all at once, and this has to go on some serious lockdown before other people notice. He is supposed to be acting normal, not arousing suspicions. The PPDC is a government run organization, and if they so much as sniff something amiss, they can just sort of grab people off the streets…ah man, he should have listened closer to Dr. Siddiq."

**So I would really love to hear your thoughts dear readers if you have any.**  
**Also I GOT NEWT OUT OF THAT LAB FINALLY...YAY NEWT IS NOW MOBILE**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter was beta'd by Thepsychoticchef, my lovely sister :)**

**Chapter 10**

Hermann tries to just walk. Tries not to get frustrated by his own lack of speed. Tries not to hit anything or anybody with his cane.

Because that would be unseemly.

And unnecessary.

And definitely something Newton would do if he had a cane.

God, Newton…He may have been a large part of the reason they saved the planet, but his methods were...and are…at best, distinctly quixotic. His entire make up seems to be an innumerable amount of large and conflicting ideas being pushed together. It's brilliant, it's irritating, it might be endearing, but mostly it tempts Hermann more towards violence. Especially when he thinks about what Newton has done to himself and to him.

It was in service to a vital cause of course. Hermann would make the same choice again in a heartbeat if it came down to it. If he hadn't, then there is an increased likelihood that mankind would have been flayed alive while those who could, would run screaming.

But there was also the possibility…the possibility he could not accept and refused to imagine…the possibility that they would have survived while Newton was crushed by the weight of his own misguided genius. The image of Newton bleeding on the floor is not one that he could ever erase, and now he has it in two iterations.

So maybe he had more than one motive for joining that second drift.

He really should focus on walking. He still feels absolutely appalling like a tiny version of Newton is suggesting things in his ear while a host of kaiju hiss in the other. It is disconcerting at best and very distracting.

_'Yeah, that blows'_ Newton informs him

The kaiju hiss, whether it is in agreement or simply a general rage he cannot say.

He sympathizes with the anger though.

He really does.

He does not want to even look at his drift partner again after their last conversation. He doesn't want to see him at all.

He can live with knowing everything about Newton…honestly nothing he has learned so far surprises him. Except the family, but he tries not to think too hard about them lest he pull up more memories that don't belong to him.

He has many things he would never have wanted Newton to see or know…and god knows what the man has gleaned so far. It's not embarrassing; it's shameful. His secrets are no longer his own. Newton does not need to know about his pathetic childhood or how he ended up walking with a cane. He didn't want Newton to know anything of that.

When people know they treat him differently. They look at him with sorry eyes and treat him like he is made of glass.

Newton is irritating, and so grating, but he is never gentle in his treatment of Hermann. He never looks at Hermann with pity. He never holds back.

Hermann has finally arrived at Marshall Hansen's office. Now he will find out whatever it is that Mako wouldn't tell him and he is almost too scared to know.

In another Newton-esque moment he doesn't even bother to knock. He simply opens the door and barges in.

Marshall Hansen is seated on one side of the desk looking utterly exhausted.

On the other side of the desk...

Is Newton.

His eyes slowly slide over to meet Hermann's gaze. He doesn't seem surprised as much as frustrated. The red ring around his right eye is still stark and disturbing. Hermann hasn't had much time to look in the mirror but he knows his left eye is a disturbing twin to it.

A physical mark of the drift if anybody is looking for it.

The Marshall is now looking between them uncertainly. He doesn't seem irritated by Hermann's interruption. His expression is more difficult to parse. It seems as though, in the few hours since Hermann saw him, he has aged still further.

"Ok." Newton says. An abrupt non-sequiter. But he is looking at the Marshall as he says it.

"Ok. Now I'm going."

The Marshall seems inclined to say more, but instead, he simply nods.

Newton stands, twitchy and unbalanced, and walks right past Hermann without a word. Hermann stares at the man's back as he heads down the hallway, then back at the Marshall.

"Would you care to tell me what that was about?" He phrases it as a question rather than a demand. Out of respect.

Marshall Hansen looks almost ashamed as he says

"I'm really sorry, Dr. Gottlieb, but I have to make some calls right now. I suggest you talk to Dr. Geiszler."

Hermann gapes at him. He sees something like desperation and wonders what on Earth could be so bad? He has ideas, many of them. But he refuses to entertain them, because that would be absurd.

He glares at the wall rather than the Marshall and then turns to follow Newton to wherever he is leading them next.

**So yeah as always I would really appreciate any comments or feedback.**

**And the thing about Hermann's leg. I may or may not explain that eventually I'm not sure. It's not like a super secret thing I just don't know if I am going to write about it but I have a story for the leg**

**Also I know I am a giant tease and I just keep doing chapter after chapter of people thinking about stuff. I know...I'm sorry the next chapter has an actual conversation in it**


	11. Chapter 11

**Beta'd by the forever corrector of Newt vs. Newton, Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr**

**Chapter 11**

Newt was trying really hard to walk normally, because he probably looked like he had some sort of disorder at the moment.

He probably did have a disorder.

In his intense concentration he nearly walked right into Herc Hansen.

"Oh, hey…uh sorry, dude," Newt mumbled, fully intending to keep walking to wherever he was going.

"Oh good, Dr. Geiszler, I was hoping to speak with you"

"Oh, uh…were you? Ok, cool." Newt was definitely coming off completely chill. Not like some sort of strange individual who crawled out of some Mary Shelley novel.

Herc simply nodded his head and started walking with the clear assumption Newt would follow.

And it was tempting…_so tempting._ To just _not follow_. If asked about it, Newt could easily say he misunderstood. Easy enough…but…in the long term this would probably solve none of Newts problems.

He should probably just follow and get this over with.

They arrive at Herc's office sooner than Newt expected, and the guy is being pretty polite for somebody who is basically the new marshal of the PPDC. He opens the door for Newt and gestures for him to have a seat.

That is probably what sets Newt on edge.

While he may have never had Gia's intense level of conspiracy theories, he has never exactly trusted the powers that be. Except Pentacost. He's awesome…was awesome. Pentacost is past tense now and the thought makes him suddenly want to hunch over and cry over the things that changed too fast for him to keep up.

God no wonder Mako looked like such a mess. That was basically her dad.

And Chuck…Herc _was_ his dad. It's been a day and now he's expected to just soldier on?

And who is mourning the Kaidonovsky's and their intense love for vodka that he respected? Or the Wei triplets whom he never knew well enough because he had no time.

Because there was never enough time.

He is fumbling his way towards the chair and Herc is quietly sitting on the other side of the very official mahogany desk. This was Pentacost's desk. That must be weird sitting at your dead friend's desk and taking over his job.

Now they are both sitting and Newt needs to not focus on the dead right now because he drifted with the kaiju and there might be some fallout. Like right now.

"Unfortunately, Dr. Geiszler, your first drift is officially on record, so there is no denying what happened."

_That's a weird way to start a conversation,_ Newt thinks.

_'Absolutely bizarre'_ Hermann agrees…not actual Hermann. His own internal British barometer that he now has thanks to the drift.

And Herc's still talking. He should listen,

"-Pentacost was not exactly keeping records of all the events of the last day or so. The only evidence of the second drift is that you and Hermann ran into the control room saying you had intel on the kaiju and matching…" he points to his eye and makes a face, and Newt feels compelled to make one back.

Hey, he never said he was mature. Herc ignores this and continues,

"The PPDC is not ruling out the possibility of a second breach, and I'm doing my best to deal with the situation a hand, but..." He trails off to scrub his face with a hand.

"We still don't fully know what happened yesterday. File reports, by the way," he vaguely points at Newt with an attempt at severity and then sighs. Newt is waiting for him to say whatever it is he is dancing around. He is dreading and anticipating it in equal measure.

"You, and possibly Dr. Gottlieb, are the only ones with firsthand knowledge of the kaiju and how they work. I believe you were the one who said they were a hivemind?" He pauses now to stare at Newt, as if waiting for some sort of affirmation. Newt doesn't respond. He knows where this is going. Feels it in his fucking soul, because he knows what Herc is about to ask, and he is pretty sure of his answer which scares him even more.

"The PPDC…we…want to gather intel on the kaiju in anticipation of any future breach activity,"

"You want me to drift again." Newt finally says. Herc looks at him, his mouth a thin unhappy line.

"But…" his brain hunts for something logical to say. Because he has no words to explain the fact that he feels like he's been half lobotomized and he feels like he might say yes, and he shouldn't say yes. . He should say yes.

"With Mutavore again? What else could I learn? Mutavore's been outside the anteverse for awhile now…"

"They recovered large portions of Raiju, which have been preserved, and are being shipped here as we speak."

Newt's words die in his throat. A new kaiju specimen. It peaks his curiosity even as the idea of diving back into that mental mess horrifies him. And seduces him. The little kaiju voice in his head hisses in hypnotic suggestion.

He tries again. He tries to say something real and honest about why this would be a bad idea. A bad idea he _really_ wants to try with only a vague sense of his own limitation is stopping him.

"Herc…look I…I haven't even fully leveled out from the last two drifts…and…" He is struggling to find the words. Herc watches him with an even gaze.

"I'm pretty sure it would be…a bad idea to drift again." And that's the best he can do? Apparently.

Herc's mouth twists.

"Well, the PPDC will not force you into any life threatening situations, but Dr. Gottlieb's predictions always suggested more than one rift, and people want answers. We would give you 48 hours to prepare of course and…" Now Herc trails off, as if the words he needs to say are unpleasant in his mouth.

"If you are unwilling to drift, the PPDC will see if Dr. Gottlieb is willing to participate." And maybe that's what grabs his attention. He stares with fixed stillness at Hercules Hansen in a cold calculate moment. Neither of them want to be in this room having this talk, but the powers that be put them here and pretended they had better options.

Hermann, the man who had shouted at him for the last ten years. The man who had bought him a kaiju action figure with no explanation on the day his uncle died. The man who brought him coffee on all those long, endless, days in the lab, when Newt refused to sleep, refused to stop, because the science was there waiting for him. The man who seemed perpetually enraged by the universe, because the universe was fucked and only the numbers made sense. The man who did not seem to care what anybody thought of him, because there were problems to be solved and a world that needed to be saved, and if Hermann could just multiply and divide his way to the answer, it would all work out.

The man who seemed to always know the right time for an argument, and the time to quietly work until the work was done. The man who worked harder than anybody Newt had ever met, and was probably the smartest person he had ever met. The man who had saved Newt from his own stupid hubris. Twice. The man who Newt allowed into his mind, because they've known each other for so long that Newt was sure there would be nothing else to know.

Newt's mouth sets.

Then the door bursts open and Hermann barges into the room, looking breathless and upset. Their eyes meet. Twin red sclera's lock and Newt can't really think, and he can't plan, but fuck it.

"Ok," he says to Herc, and watches him inhale a half silent gasp. He looks relieved, and maybe sad, and maybe loads of other stuff that Newt is too exhausted to figure out.

"Ok, now I'm going." And with that he stands and bypasses Hermann, because he can't really think about Hermann right now. He might have just agreed to suicide by science.

To be fair, if he had to go by choice…science is always the best way to go, but he hadn't necessarily wanted to be mentally torn to pieces by the monsters he'd cut in pieces before the dying occurred.

That is what he just agreed to. Probably.

He still can't remember the drift. Not really.

He has gathered a few vague impressions. Memories of Hermann and the hivemind. A sensation of the other that wished him dead down to the molecular level. Claws that dug into him and didn't let go until the drift was done.

So that's what he just agreed to.

So the PPDC is pretty sure he drifted a second time. They aren't sure about Hermann…just him. Of course, if he had said no, they would have been happy to grab somebody else. Or maybe they would have just forced him. Despite whatever Herc says, governments get freaky when people get scared.

And, well…even with all of that, there was something in him that wants to go back to that. To dive into that ocean and be consumed. Even though he knows how much he should not want it, he wants it. He wants it so bad. Even from here he can feel the tides pulling at him. Inviting him.

He is barely paying attention to where he is walking.

Also Hermann…there is Hermann…

The problem with Hermann…if it can be considered a problem…Is that the man has integrity. Maybe too much for a government run organization. The man believes in things and will act on those beliefs, and he will not fucking lie. It's exasperating, and exhausting, and inspiring, and infuriating

Hermann does not doubt the higher powers. He trusts them and acts in service of them, because he perceives their goals as right even as they take, and take, and take.

Hermann is probably the one who is going to survive this. Of the pair of them, he is the one with the mettle to make it through this mess. Because he has already survived so much.

His leg stopped working and he kept going. His father stopped caring and he kept going. They told him he couldn't pilot and he kept going. He worked with _Newt_ calling him a moron every second of every day, and he _still kept going_.

They took his dreams, they took his staff and his funding, they took his _math_, and they are still taking it because Hermann is still giving. Because he thinks it is right even when he thinks it's wrong, and he is just going to keep believing and letting them bleed him dry and

And no

This is where Newt comes into the equation. A random factor not previously considered by any party, and thank god he at least has the element of surprise, because the fact is Newt's already compromised. His mind is probably already half ruined by two bad drifts. Hermann might have gotten a little weirder, but he is still surviving. Still functioning. _Still thinking_. If they asked Hermann, he would say yes, and let them take that monument to mathematics and rationalism and let them flush it all away.

He does not hear the distant tapping of a cane somewhere behind him.

And, ok, it's not all selfless. Newt admits that.

He imagines connecting again. Connecting with them. He feels the pull of the tides that are begging him to drift out into that ocean. It wants him. Or maybe he wants it? Who can tell if he is even perceiving real emotions or simply echoes of the collective tidal voices in his head.

He wants back in. He doesn't want Hermann back in there. So really there is no reason for him not to do this. It's a win win.

Except for the part where he is probably going to die.

His stomach turns somersaults. Yeah, he probably won't make it out alive…or at least not fully functioning. Best case scenario is catatonia or coma

…Oh well, that's fine…_c'est la vie_, right?

Right? He turns the corner and he's back at the lab.

"Newton."

**Comments are really appreciated :D**

**So a major note on upcoming chapters. I am going to be ditching the strict Newt than Herm POV switches as needed. The next couple chapters will probably be from Newtons POV followed by several Hermann POV chapters. Just an FYI for those who wonder at the change in format.**

**This chapter also has another Designations reference because sorry I love it. Hermann being a pillar of rationalism...yup I won't touch Descartes because that is all CWR's but I couldn't resist a little allusion to it.**

**And as an aside there may be some small inconsistencies for the sake of story like ok TECHNICALLY nobody knows the precise details of Newt and Herms second drift but sharing the neural load seems to be a widely accepted thing. So like my only logic for the insistence on drifting alone with the kaiju is that the muckity mucks dont want to ruin both geniuses they have at their disposal. I'm going to ask you to roll with that and a few other things that are done for the sake of DRAMA because I love drama.**


	12. Chapter 12

**corrected by the withholder of truths Thepsychoticchef, sister and editor extraordinaire**

**Chapter 12**

"Newton."

He turns around and sees Hermann is behind him. The man looks about as shitty as he feels. The eye thing is not going to get less weird anytime soon. He is a little sweaty and leaning hard on his cane.

Newt looks at him briefly and with many conflicting thoughts.

He turns and walks into the lab. It's not really meant as an invitation, but Hermann follows him in regardless.

The limping looks bad right now. Watching is kind of making Newt wish Hermann would just sit down, but instead, he is standing in front of him.

"What was the conversation you just had with Marshal Hansen about?" He phrases it like a question but it isn't. His hand grips the cane so hard Newt half expects the knuckle bones to break skin.

"It wasn't a big deal, dude. And you could have asked Hansen…" he trails off under the intensity of Hermann's glare.

"Ms. Mori seemed to think it would be very important, and the Marshal insisted I ask you."

Typical. What a coward. Although it might have been an attempt at sensitivity, allowing Newt to control the spread of this information.

"Look, it's nothing, ok?" Newt says stalling for time, but Hermann looks like he might hit Newt with his cane if he sidesteps the issue.

Problem is, Newt can't say it. He can't say it out loud. Not to Hermann.

But he does.

Sort of.

"The PPDC wants me to drift with another kaiju remnant to gather intel," he says it casually, despite how saying the words 'drift' and 'kaiju' make his throat close.

Hermann stares at him and blinks. And then stares some more. It is probable that this apparent calm is a signal that Hermann is about to have an utter meltdown. Or he is already having one internally. A calm Hermann is rarely a good thing.

"I told them no, so…like I said…no worries."

The sentence seems to unlock something in the other man. His shoulders sag a fractional amount. The grip on his cane loosens, knuckles return to standard skin tones.

"And that's it? They were satisfied with that?" he asks and Newt finds his tone interesting. It sounds a lot like concern. And yeah, Newt's going to keep lying through his teeth because he does not want Hermann involved. Not in this shit storm.

"Yeah, I mean…they want me to keep studying kaiju and I offered to help them study alternative methods of gathering more information about the kaiju and stuff."

Who knew he was such a good liar? It rolls right off his tongue and Hermann isn't questioning it. He is nodding and even offers Hermann a razor thin smile…or something like that.

"That is fortunate. I imagine Ms. Mori did not know your answer when I spoke to her…" he trails off. Possibly because he doesn't have a good enough reason for Herc pawning off this conversation on Newt, but it looks like he isn't over thinking it. That's good. And now Newt really wants to change the subject.

"Herc wants us to write up reports and all that." Newt says like an aside, but isn't.

"Naturally," Hermann replies, so fucking primly it almost makes Newt laugh.

"Well, I think it's probably best if you maybe leave out the finer details of that second drift, ok?" his voice squeaks like rusty hinges, and Hermann is looking at him in a way that Newt wants to stop. Immediately.

"I'm just saying, the less the higher ups know the better. I was going to say that I just remembered more stuff from the first drift, ok?" Hermann is still staring.

"Surely people noticed when you brought your pons equipment to the middle of Hong Kong." He says and Newt inhales slowly. Why does Hermann have to be so smart?

"Yeah, but nobody knows if I actually used it. You're the only guy who was there." He tries not to sound desperate, tries not to sound like he is scrabbling for reasonable answers. It comes as a relief when Hermann scoffs.

"Those insufferable morons. Don't they know it takes two to drift? The neural load is too much to handle alone." And Newt laughs. It escapes him loudly and somewhat manaically. He sounds a little unhinged. Hermann is staring again and he is trying to think of something to say, but instead he just stares at Hermann's leg as his brain goes blank.

This causes Hermann to scowl at him and mutter some like, "Insufferable," through clenched teeth and before returning to his own desk.

Newt stares at the man's back as he retreats to his side of the lab. He considers those tense shoulderblades poking against that ridiculous suit jacket. The man is so absurd sometimes that Newt wonders if he is even real.

In other news, Newt is going to have a talk with Herc and whoever is running this operation, because he has some boundaries that he needs set now.

_Like right now._

He has 48 hours to figure out what needs to happen.

_Shit._

He feels a bit like throwing up and falling asleep. He feels like his nose is bleeding. He feels Hermann looking at him from the other side of the lab. He feels the colossal drive that wants to go diving down into the azure depths of what he won't do, and cannot do, and what he is going to do. He wants to drift with an ocean.

He feels what he does not know, and what he will soon know, too well. He is sitting at the edge of an endless chasm that he helped make because it was his stupid ideas that put him here.

So this is what real fear feels like.

Alone, but not, in a lab surrounded by chalk figures and pieces of what used to walk the earth.

Newt is very

very

afraid.

**I always love the comments guys. You all are lovely :)**  
**Ok so this as I mentioned is breaking my strict Herm than Newt POV switches. It's going to be irregular now and with less of a clear pattern based on whose POV is going to best tell the story.**

**Also in the realm of things I am asking you to buy for the sake of DRAMA, a big one is that Hermann buys this load of crap. I would like to consider it largely coming from a place of denial that he does not want the thing to happen so he is very ready to believe it isnt happening. Honestly Hermann's waaay too smart to buy this and I will do my best to justify it but yeah. This is the big thing I am going to ask you to suspend your disbelief for. It might even be OOC which like...yeah...**

**Also I have now caught up to myself. I wrote several chapters ahead to get all of this to work coherently but now I'm caught up so the next update might not be so quick.**


	13. Chapter 13

**chapter beta'd by thepsychoticchef :)**

**Chapter 13**

"Ok so we need to set some ground rules," Newt said leaning forward in his chair on the other side of Herc's desk. It was day 1 of 2 before the drift and he had come to some conclusions.

"Alright, Dr. Geiszler, what ground rules?" Herc asked calmly. Newt held up one finger, "Dr. Gottlieb doesn't know about this and he won't find out about it. No matter what, no one is allow to tell him what is going on." Newt held up a second finger,

"Whatever tests are being done, I need to be out of medical by noon. Every day I need to be able to walk out of there. I will go to the lab and go about my day and not be bothered by you, or any medical personnel unless I call for them. I want to be out of there by 1 o'clock at the latest. I don't care how you have to spread this out, but that is going to happen." He puts his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair, raising his chin a little as he does so. He is confident they will listen, because hey, he just agreed to let them ruin him and that is going to give him some play in this.

"You know the possibility exists that, at some point, you won't be able to walk out?" Herc asks him in a tone that is almost gentle, and Newt smiles with lips pulling back from teeth in predatory rage.

"Ok first off don't bother being all nice to me right now ok? I agreed to this and it's shitty and you know it. Let's skip the part where we act like friends."

Woah, who filled his mouth with acid this morning? Hyperbolic acid of course, the literal acid might come later. He's been having trouble eating.

"Second, I know and I don't care; this is what I want."

He thought over his alternatives and frankly he is too selfish to take them. He could tell Hermann he was being called away for something…a conference perhaps. Staying in the medical bay the whole time being monitored sounded smarter, and more likely to not arouse Hermann's suspicion, but… Stuck in that cold empty room. Being prodded and poked all day long by people he did not like. The extremely likely possibility that he would enter that room and never leave it again. Never see people again. Never see Hermann again.

The man is more familiar to him than the sky; than oxygen. More a part of him than his own blood and bones. The man's presence is steadier than his own heartbeat. No, he could not resign himself to being locked away from everything and everyone. Away from him, until… No, he is too selfish for that.

He briefly wonders what would happen if he ran. Just grabbed his things and bolted. He would have to take Hermann, otherwise the higher ups would simply sink their claws into him

And that's where the dream sputters and dies. He can picture the conversation with pinpoint accuracy.'Hermann, we need to run away.' 'why?' '…because San Francisco is really sunny this time of year.' It's a shame Hermann's smart enough to ask questions…not really…but kind of.

"Dr. Geiszler?" Herc regains his attention, and now it's Newt's turn to sigh as his skull throbs dully and his hands shake

"Just do what I asked and I'll go along with everything else." With that, he stands up and walks towards the door. He still feels like walking is hard, but it feels like that has more to do with his muscle and bone being replaced with glue while he slept.

"Who is going to be running this…study?" he asks the door instead of Herc, because he wants to know whose face he is going to be seeing before his entire self collapses into nothing

"Caitlin Lightcap," Herc says. Newt nods to the door before he opens it and shuts it behind him.

Of course it would be Lightcap. Fucking Lightcap.

Hermann would be thrilled. Newt is feeling mostly mixed and trying to remember that panel they met at...was it four years ago? Hermann had barely been able to speak as he shook her hand, and then somehow Newt and Caitlin had started talking about drift compatibility and…he had been pretty drunk at the time, but the argument had gotten pretty heated

So yeaaaah… it could be worse, he supposed. She is the expert in drift technology, and he is the expert in kaiju. On paper this must look like a great plan.

Great plan.

He is a little excited in the sense that he's incredibly curious, and that saying about curiosity and the cat may be more than hyperbole at this point.

Stupid fucking cat.

Stupid fucking Newton Geiszler.

He wondered if his senses would leave him in ordered rank and file? Marching one by one into an abyss of technology and biology.

Would he feel it?

His brain compensated for the last drift by filing it away under lock and key. When he slept last night he dreamed about the drift. But if the brain could compensate for that…adapt in some way…what would he feel?

Would he know the moment that would be his last?

Because brain dead is as good as dead, even if the heart is still beating

He heads back to the lab and arrives there soon enough. Hermann is sitting at his computer and typing today. Probably filling out the report. Well, he should probably do that too

He sits at his computer and opens a blank document. He brings his hands to the keyboard and begins to write.

He does not include the fact that Hermann drifted with him. He says he did it alone. He tries to give the rest reasonable detail, but he just keeps wondering if, at some point later on, Hermann might read this report. He does not like that thought.

He types up everything he can think of, and after an hour or so, he saves it and shuts it down. He slept in today. That was on purpose since he is going to start coming in to the lab late for the foreseeable future. It's already 5 now and his stomach tells him he should eat. He keeps trying to eat and it's not working. He can't seem to keep food down, and it probably isn't even a physical symptom as much as a sign of anxiety at this point.

Ok, technically it might have something to do with how dizzy he feels almost constantly.

He is going to the mess hall anyway. Hermann has been pretty quiet all day, but as Newt leaves he asks, "Where are you going?"

"To eat dinner…" And then his traitorous mouth betrays him "Want to come?"

Hermann looks at him in some small surprise. "Yes, alright."

**Comments are deeply pleasing to me y'all**

**Also heyooo I'm bringing in Caitlin Lightcap. I will do my best to bring a unique spin to her since lordy knows she has been done quite a bit in fandom. I have some ideas. Also GIA MY FAV OC IS COMING BACK I AM EXCITED. If you follow me on Tumblr you know this already but yeah. Gia is rad.**

**And I referenced DCWT again because I can and it makes me laugh.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Corrected by thepsychoticchef 3**

**Chapter 14**

Newton was strange at dinner…is that even a proper way of indentifying his behavior? The man is a living, breathing oddity. He is chaos theory given human form.

That being said, he barely eats during dinner. He has moments of sudden animation where he chatters endlessly on some bit of minutiae that catches his interest. Subordinate vs. dominant among predatory species, the cellular response to drifting, and what the PPDC plans for the Shatterdomes are in the future, because fixing up a Jaeger only takes one large room, and their science only needs one more room. This kind of ranting goes on and then dies down suddenly as he returns to picking at his food.

When he smiled it was incandescent, but the light seemed to fade quickly and without warning.

Hermann had no idea what was plaguing him or how to ask. He was, personally, not one for talking about his feelings. But Newton seemed inclined to talk up, down, around, and through his issues. He had been doing it for years and only now did it appear that something had finally capped the verbal well.

When Hermann was finished eating, Newton stood jerkily and said he was going to bed early because he was tired. That left Hermann to go back to the lab alone.

Strangely the lab was a sadder place when it lacked the man's presence, so Hermann went to wander again. Well, if walking with a predetermined destination can still be categorized as wandering.

He walked up to the entrance of the balcony overlooking the Jaeger bay. He found her pressed against the railing looking at something far away.

He stood for a moment, feeling uncertain of what to say. The light dimly rose up from the level below providing bare illumination. It lit up her blue streaks in a way was momentarily blinding.

Nevertheless, he spoke first,

"Good evening, Miss Mori," she turned to face him with the ghost of a smile. He returned the expression more easily than he would have thought possible before. Maybe that was another bit of Newton detritus that was now littered throughout his personality and decisions.

"Good evening, Dr. Gottlieb," she said with a small inclination of the head. She turned back to face the balcony and did not tell him to leave. He interpreted that as an invitation and came to stand beside her at the balcony rail.

They stood there in a companionable silence. Down below a few large boxes had come in. It appeared to be the beginning parts of something. Maybe a Jaeger or the tools to help fix one. It was hard to say from this high up.

"I just thought you might like to know, I spoke with Marshall Hansen, and I don't believe you need to worry about myself or Dr. Geiszler," Hermann said as politely as he could. Her concern had been touching in its very existence. He felt it should be acknowledged in some way. She turned to him with wide eyes and a smile that was shockingly bright in the dim.

"That is most fortunate, Dr. Gottlieb. I am glad for you both." He attempted to smile back but her expression flagged and was gone in a moment. She turned to face the railing and the floor below. Hermann followed her lead. They stood in another silence, but it did not feel unwelcome.

"I'm going to be leaving tomorrow for a press tour with Raleigh Beckett," Mako informed him in a sudden aside that felt like a confession.

"Really?" Hermann asked. He was not very good at conversation.

Ever since the drift Hermann had felt solitude more acutely than ever before. And yet he could not make himself seek out the one person who might truly cure that ache. Instead, he found himself seeking out other people and initiating conversations. It was new territory for him. Whether Ms. Mori was seeking solitude from all the PPDC or just her drift partner was unknown. She seemed amenable to his presence which made him guess it was mostly the latter.

"That must be troubling for you," he said in an attempt at some sort of sympathy or empathy, he couldn't quite tell which. She looked over at him and smiled wanly.

"I wanted to fight the kaiju, Dr. Gottlieb, I wanted to bring about their destruction." Her gaze is intense and she breaks it to stare resolutely at the floor below or something else Hermann cannot see.

"I was always more concerned with the fight. Drifting was a necessary step towards that and so I took it without considering…" she breaks off and roughly swipes at her eye. Hermann rummages in his pockets until he finds a small package of tissues. He hands her the pack and she smiles at him briefly before taking a tissue to wipe her nose.

"Now Raleigh and I are tied together in ways I should have anticipated and I find it difficult to..." she laughs a little, almost embarrassed but not.

"He brings up such strong emotions in me," she is still staring far away but her lips seem to struggle with the words. A short silence falls but it is a thoughtful one; it is soberly shared between them.

"I understand that sentiment, Ms. Mori. But, unfortunately, what's done is done, and now we have to live in the consequences of our own making," he murmured trying not to lean to heavily on his cane. He felt the weight of their words in a way that almost made him want to crumple. It was tempting to simply be crushed under the weight of all of it. Not to try anymore but simply let the worry and the pain sink into him and pull him down.

Now Ms. Mori was looking at him again, very keenly.

"Did you drift with Dr. Geiszler?" she asks. Hermann opens his mouth to answer and then shuts it. He had, in essence, made an agreement with Newton to not discuss their shared drift with the infant of Otachi. And yet he felt a certain trust with Ms. Mori. He wanted to confide in somebody since he could not with his drift partner.

And yet.

Hermann did not give his word lightly. Newton had seemed deeply agitated about this point. He did not wish to…upset Newton further by going against his wish.

He still had not responded to Ms. Mori, but some new light had come into her eyes. A look of comprehension or possibly understanding. She faced forward and spoke to the air,

"Perhaps if you had…" She glanced at him sidelong, "hypothetically, drifted with Dr. Geiszler and the kaiju, the after effects would be complex and confusing."

Hermann returned to facing forward as well and spoke with a sigh.

"If I had hypothetically drifted with such a confusing man…I would indeed be troubled." He was choosing his words carefully, but more for the benefit of any other ears that might be in range of their conversation.

"Newton's behavior has been more erratic than usual and I would find this to be…a matter of concern. Not to mention the utter lack of privacy would be unbearable."

Mako nodded gravely.

"Some secrets are too painful to be shared," she said softly.

"Indeed, Ms. Mori…indeed."

Silence fell once more, but it was slightly lighter. Fractionally so. Troubles had been spoken aloud and freed into the air where they were moderately less of a burden.

"When do you leave for the tour?" Hermann asked.

"5 AM tomorrow," she responds, flat and resigned. Hermann glances at his watch.

"It is almost 10 PM already, perhaps it would be time for you to attempt some rest?" he asks.

"Tomorrow will be a long day," she sighs.

"I can walk to your quarters if you would like," Hermann offers. It felt strange and uncertain and a little outdated, but Hermann was enjoying Ms. Mori's uncomplicated understanding. She smiled at him now, and Hermann imagined she might feel something similar.

Two lonely drifters…what a pair they make.

"Alright, Dr. Gottlieb, but if you are going to walk me home I believe you should start calling me Mako," she says with a hint of play. He imagines a young Ma]ko sternly acquiescing to the use of her first name with Pentacost and a few other privileged individuals.

"Then I suppose you will be calling me Hermann," he says with a similar attempt at good spirits. It feels like they need this even if it is forced for the moment.

Mako nods with childish gravitas.

"Naturally,"

It evokes a tugging at the corner of his mouth that does not feel forced. It's funny how quickly pretending becomes real, even for the adults. Making believe until one believes it. 'fake it till you make it.' A phrase Newton mind is such a powerful tool that way.

Mako lets him set the pace as they walk and attempt something like small talk to fill the empty air. It feels nice to pretend there is nothing achingly wrong in their lives. They are just two friends taking a walk and having a nice chat. She tells him the various locations her tour will take her and he discusses some papers he has been reading on alternative methods of mapping temporal and spatial distortions.

It's all quite casual until a voice interrupts them.

"Hey, Mako!" Raleigh is walking towards them from the direction of his and Mako's neighboring rooms.

She freezes and stares up at the approaching man with wide eyes. She looks not unlike the proverbial deer in headlights, and Hermann can't help but glare a little at the man for causing such obvious distress. Raleigh comes to stop in front of them with his hands buried deep in his pockets and tense shoulders.

"Hey, Dr. Gottlieb, good to see you." He says casually. Hermann inclines his head slightly and sneaks another glance at Mako, who has now transferred her gaze to the floor.

"Hello, Raleigh," she tells the concrete softly and Hermann watches, genuine confusion and concern flit across the man's features.

"Hey…um…looking forward to seeing you…tomorrow…" He says slowly and more awkwardly than Hermann would have expected. A hand detaches from a pocket to scratch at his hair. He looks sheepish, even bashful, but his emotions are always out on display for everyone to see. Mako only makes a monosyllabic noise that sounded nothing like agreement or disagreement.

"You know, I was just telling Ms. Mako that she ought to get some rest considering the early start you two have tomorrow." Hermann cut in as politely as possible. Why was he involving himself in this?

"Oh yeah! Of course…I was just going to get some shut eye after I talked to Tendo about something…" he trails off into silence once more and the three of them stand there. Three variations on discomfort and uncertainty.

"Ok well…goodnight…Mako" Raleigh says slowly, he is still staring at her like he might will her to look at him. She glances up briefly and nods to the floor.

"Good night Raleigh." And then she moves past him, leaving Hermann to nod in a silent farewell to her confused and dejected drift partner before following her down the hall. Once there is some distance between Mako and Raleigh, she slows to down so Hermann can catch up.

They continue towards her room without a word exchanged between them. He can imagine the silence is filled with the words unspoken. Words between Mako and Raleigh. Between Newton and himself. Things that remain unsaid until they are brave enough to say them.

He glances at her as they walk towards her room. Her face is clouded over with a quiet blend of frustration and anxiety; her eyes stare into a memory he cannot see. The pretend happiness is now replaced with weighted silence as they walk. When they reach Mako's door she turns to face him.

"I appreciate your help, Hermann," she says without meeting his eyes. Hermann nods, another heavy mix of sympathy and empathy.

"Perhaps…if the tour becomes…overwhelming, you might consider calling me? For the sake of having someone to talk to?" Again, why is he offering so much? When she smiles at him he feels something melt a little.

"I would like that very much, Hermann."

He pulls a pad of paper from his pocket and scrawls down the random numerals that string together to make up his cell phone number. He hands her the paper and she gives him a crooked grin.

"I believe I just managed to 'score you digits?' Or is that not the phrase?" she asks. The laugh that escapes him is short and sharp, but his lips form a real smile.

"I believe that is the phrase…Good luck on your trip, Mako." He bends in a small respectful bow. Her smile is something softer now, but she bows in return.

"Good luck with Dr. Geiszler."

After she shuts her door he considers her words. Luck is certainly much of what he will need, and possibly an act of God to prevent Newton from enacting any further stupidity.

**Oh Hermann you sweet summer child...**  
**Also Mako...Mako you are a darling and frankly if I found Raleigh more interesting I would write loads about the pair of you. As it is I feel like there is definitely a story with them. I may write a bit of it separate from this fic farther down the line. (and that bit at the end may or may not have been an excuse to ditch the Ms. Mori thing...Hermann why are you such a stickler?**

**Comments are love as always.**


	15. Chapter 15

**If you dislike poetry than I'm sorry. Also um...Trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks? Just in case?**

**Beta'd shortly by my lovely sister Thepsychoticchef**

**Chapter 15**

Newt sat at his desk in the lab. Day 2 of 2 before the drift.

How did he feel about this? Not awesome…not awesome at all.

Hermann was on his side of the lab recording equations from his boards. It was a method he had begun employing as soon as he ran out of chalkboard space ages ago. Reducing the organic spread of chalk thoughts into neat organizable equations that could be referred back at a later date. He had a notebook, a binder, and some sort of filing system for it all.

This was stuff Newt had picked up from the drift since, apparently, he didn't used to know that

So that's weird. For sure.

He is considering this as he faces his desk and fiddles on his laptop. He doesn't really have work to do right now since the work is coming later…

At medical. Where he will be hooked up and god knows what else.

He knows he could ask.

He could march into the medical bay right now and demand to know everything that's going to happen in excruciating detail.

But he wants every last second that he can get away from there. Before time and his own agreements force him to go.

"Dr. Geiszler?" he can feel Hermann turn with him to face the door and the petit figure standing in it.

_Oh fuck._

Her looks more or less match the dreamy eyed scientist he had drunkenly argued with at that conference; her hair had been longer though. Now it's chopped unevenly and splaying wildly just beneath her chin. The eyes are different too. More alert, more ready.

Glasses are the same at least. Wide with heavy frames.

Hermann sputters from his side of the lab.

"Dr. Lightcap, it's a pleasure to meet you again!" Hermann is way too excited as he goes for his cane and makes his way over to shake her hand. She takes the hand gingerly, her smile a little sharp.

"I'm here to speak with Dr. Geiszler, we're going to be collaborating on –" Newt interrupts her,

"–On alternative methods of gathering intel on the kaiju, I should have mentioned Lightcap. Sorry, dude. I knew you would nerd out," Hermann goes a little red but doesn't latch on to any other part of that, which is fortunate."

Besides, the nerding out is not an exaggeration; Hermann practically lit up. He is so eager to talk to this woman, even though Hermann's favorite part of the Jaeger is the structure (that's where all his numbers went), Newt knows he has a steady reverence for the Pons equipment that Caitlin had engineered.

Also, at the moment, he is behind Hermann and trying to tell Caitlin to shut up with his eyes. Fortunately, the lady lives up to her PhD's and doesn't say anything further. She simply stares bemused and tight lipped.

"Dr. Geiszler, can we speak outside for a moment?" she asks. Newt's up out of his seat in a flash.

"Yup, be right back Herms, try not to break anything while I'm gone," he twiddles his fingers in delicate farewell and prays Hermann will be too annoyed to question anything that is going on.

Thank god he knows just how to annoy the man.

Once out of the lab, Newt leads Lightcap a little further from the doorway before sticking out his hand.

First off is pleasantries I think. So, hi, it's nice to meet you when I'm not drunk and enraged about stuff," Her eyebrows shoot sky high but nevertheless she takes his hand and gives it two firm shakes before dropping it like a hot potato. Her palms were dry, the skin red and irritated. Her nails were bitten down to the quick. He sees all of this before she jams her hands back into the pockets of her lab coat.

Because, apparently, Caitlin actually wears a labcoat around the way normal people wear jackets. Under the coat was some button up blouse and jeans, but wow, she just wears that lab coat around? Well, he supposes people are entitled to like that sort of thing.

"Dr…Geiszler?"

"Oh, whoops, sorry…been a bit scatterbrained lately. Ok, so number two." He leaned in a little to practically fucking hiss/maybe whisper,  
"Hermann does not know I'm going to drift again. Hermann is not going to find out about this, and if I should die, he is not going to drift with the kaiju, ok?" He says this all very quickly, and she stands there listening with that steady, unnerving gaze. When he's finished, they stand in silence for a moment before she opens her mouth to speak,

"Ok, I assume Marshall Hansen might have informed me, but I wanted to speak to you first and make sure you knew what you were signing up for." Her voice is as even as her stare. Newt snorts,

"So now the PPDC cares about how informed I am? Look, I know enough to know that there is a really good possibility this will either kill me or leave me brain damaged," his voice sounds raw in his ears.

"I am hoping it won't since I try not to make a habit out of killing people in the name of science," she's still even in tone but her eyes spark.

"Oh well, too late on that one," Newt spits out. Lightcap flinches a little. It had been years since the early days of Pons testing, but Newt has read the files.

"This may come as a surprise to you, but as curious as I am about what your drifts may uncover, coming here was not my decision." Her cheeks are red, and just like that, Newt knows he can't hate her.

Which is frustrating because he _really_ wants to. She is essentially going to be the engineer of his destruction. The conductor leading that speeding train that is his brain right off the rails. But, like him, she hadn't really been given a choice. _Fuck._

"If it helps, you're not getting hooked up tomorrow. I plan to take this slow. I plan to be _careful_." She sounds tight. Her shoulders are tense and she stares at the floor. Newt sighs.

"Look, dude, I…I don't want to deal with this today. I get what you're saying, but...sorry. See you tomorrow. I'll be in the lab if you need me, but, like…don't." Her expression in that moment is hard to parse, but she nods as he turns and heads back.

Hermann glances over when he comes back in. His expression is neutral if a little tight-lipped.

"Yeah, I'll be working with Caitlin in the mornings…but like…I'll be here in the afternoons…" Newt says in his best attempt at casual and Hermann shifts to a frown.

"I'm not your sitter, Newton, I don't need to be aware of where you are constantly," the words lack bite, but Newt still turns red and scratches at his hair.

"I know, I was just…saying…in case you wondered…" he trails off in a blaze of stupidity and turns back to his desk.

So that went smoothly. He can still feel Hermann's gaze lasering into his spine, but eventually the weight of it recedes and, yeah…that went…well.

At least Caitlin might lie for him while he's in there. If it comes to that, she might go along with it. When he dives into…it.

_The drift._

He's gonna go swimming, his brain informs him and he almost giggles aloud. Hysterics wishing to bubble up to the surface.

But no, because he does not want this. He does not want this. _He does not want this._

He grips the edge of his desk tightly. Feels the sharp corners digging into his palm.

And they plan to drag it out? So it won't even be over quickly. It will be a slow degradation of his sanity. A repetitive torture where he willingly comes back for more, _because what else is there._

He could leave and Hermann wouldn't hear, but where would he go? Collapsing in the halls might get noticed. So he sits.

It's not happening yet, it's happening later. Coming soon. To be continued.

He does not want this, but there is no choice. No choice. No alternatives. No options.

Fuck, this is not helping. Breathing is a no go. Hyperventilation comes in unsteady waves.

_—Kill bite tear pieces shatter them all—_

No, can this not happen now? For the love of fuck. His head is spinning. Somebody is talking and his ears are ringing.

_—teeth rip blood—_

Hands are on his shoulders. His chair spins but it is not his doing. Suddenly his vision is full of Hermann.

"Newton, can you tell me what is the matter?" Frustration rings out in the weighted and clipped syllables. But there is an undercurrent of concern? Maybe? He is really dizzy. His chest aches.

He can't tell Hermann what the matter is. He could talk about the matter with atoms and mass, but not this matter in particular. Do thoughts have mass? Are they weighing him down? Maybe he needs a lobotomy.

Say something.

"Kaiju" is what he manages in one fraying gasp. Hermann stares at him for a long moment. The sounds of too rapid breathing fill the room, sounding ragged and strained. Something in Hermann's expression cracks.

But not like the breach that was filled with kaiju when they unplugged the ocean and came spilling out. They will pull him down. They are pulling him down a whirlpool, or a blackhole. Hermann rests two fingers against his carotid and must feel the flailing pulse beneath.

It's possible to die from lack of oxygen. Is he crying right now? Hermann is walking away from him.

He is getting something from his desk.

He comes back with a book. Newt pulls his legs up onto the chair against his chest; he's shaking. When did he start shaking?

Hermann leans against his desk, does not look at him, and opens the book. When he begins to read, it's casual. Soft spoken, even.

"'Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,  
Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths,  
Of night and light and the half light…'"

Newt is about to open his mouth and gasp out something like _what the fuck, Hermann?_ When the drift answers him first—

_—Hermann sits with the covers pulled up to his chin, knowing there are no monsters under the bed. There is nothing in the closet, but he can't sleep because every time they turn out the lights he can't breathe. Mother sits and reads aloud._

_"Focus on the words, darling,"_

_Vater doesn't know. He wouldn't appro—_

"'…But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams'…" he trails off as turns the page with a mumble of, "Yeats what a silly man."

"You don't have… to bother" Newt sputters, still gasping. And sweating too. His entire self is vibrating in varying rhythms. Hermann pauses on a page and looks at him sidelong. He does not say anything for a moment.

"Focus on the words, you imbecile," he turns another page.

"What is this nonsense, the authors aren't even organized alphabetically.  
'When I have fears that I may cease to be  
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain…'"

Well that's on point, Hermann. Not that he knows it, of course. Newt will try Hermann's way because his way of sitting and _freaking out_ is massively unhelpful. Focus on the words, focus on the words, _focus._

Tomorrow isn't happening right now, tomorrow is hours away, it isn't happening right now. Hermann sounds really calm.

"Oh, look, its Byron,  
'There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,  
There is a rapture on the lonely shore…'"

He focuses on the words. He wonders if it was the words that mattered or the voice that read them out of loyalty, or something else. Hermann would be livid if somebody dared to call him kind. He takes deep breaths and holds them before exhaling slowly.

"Of course there's Shakespeare, this isn't even a poem, it's from the Tempest." He quips before launching into,  
"'Our revels now are ended. These our actors,  
As I foretold you, were all spirits…'"

Breathe. Keep breathing. Good job lungs. One poem's ending blends into another's beginning

"' To see a World in a Grain of Sand  
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower  
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand  
And Eternity in an hour…'"

The shaking has settled back into just his hands.

Hermann's now muttering about Tennyson being 'good stuff.'

He listens. The words fill his ears and he breathes. The room has stilled on its axis and he is still breathing. The words continue as Hermann drops them one by one like pennies in a wishing well.

"'…That which we are, we are;  
One equal temper of heroic hearts,  
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will  
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.' I rather like that one."

And he would, wouldn't he? Hermann would love that particular poem.

Newt never sat and read poetry before. Some of it was kind of nice.

Hermann flips a few pages and glances over at him. Without a word, he reaches over and presses those two fingers gently against his neck. They lock eyes for a moment and Hermann takes his hand away. He shuts the book and goes back to his side of the lab without a word.

"Uh…thanks," Newt calls over, because hey, the man just _read to him._

"Just be grateful you did not have another _seizure, gutte Gott_." His tone is reassuringly brittle. Newt almost smiles at the man's back, but tomorrow stops him.

**Notes:**

**Ok so obviously there is a lot going on here. First thing I just realized that my method of crossposting between here and AO3 had removed ALL THE ITALICS. I am fixing that now.**

**Thank you to ButterCat for your lovely comment. I would have replied directly but FF wont let you with the guest log in. I will say yes I am kind of crap at pacing. It took me around 6 or 7 chapters to get a clear idea of where I was going with this. Hopefully the finished product will just read like a VERY slow build? XD**

**Also Caitlin. I researched with the wiki and googling as much as I could. She is as true to canon visually as I could make her. Also I've never seen a fic really handle her OCD aside from mentioning it(according to the wiki it's been a lifelong struggle). I had a friend with OCD who never showed any stereotypical symptoms but I wanted a visual indicator of her emotional state. So the hands. They are all red and dry because she washes them too much and yeah nail biting. (also agewise she might be a like 10 years too young but oh well in my mind she is close to Newt and Herms age because reasons)**

**And panic attacks. I have had panic attacks several times and nobody has ever read to me as a method of helping but in certain situations I imagine it might be helpful(Not if I'm getting shots though because fuck needles)**  
**And ok the poetry was also and excuse to indulge in a little word porn. (oh and btw I speak from experience poem anthologies are often organized in the stupidest ways)In order here are the poems that we actually hear Hermann read.**  
**He Wishes for the Clothes of Heaven by W.B. Yeats**  
**When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be by John Keats**  
**The Sea by Lord Byron**  
**From Act 4 Scene 1 of The Tempest by William Shakespeare**  
**The Auguries of Innocence by William Blake**  
**And finally: Ulysses by Lord Alfred Tennyson**

**I highly recommend reading all of these because poetry is rad**


	16. Chapter 16

**Beta'd by Thepsychoticchef :)**

**Chapter 16**

Hermann has not said a word to Newton after his…was it a panic attack? Some sort of mental breakdown? The only explanation he had gotten was 'kaiju', and it pained him to imagine what in god's name was going through that man's head in relation to the dead alien race that might have elicited that response. He glanced over at Newton, who was still seated at his desk. He was working on his computer mostly. Hermann could not tell what he was doing, but it seemed absorbing enough that Newton barely moved from his spot for the next several hours.

Finally, around 8pm, Newton stands up from his seat. Hermann turns to see Newton looking at him. He isn't saying anything, but he seems to be attempting to communicate something with his eyes. They stare at each other in silence for what seems like ages, but in actuality is probably a minute.

Newton looks away first.

"I will see you tomorrow afternoon, Newton," Hermann says before turning to face his desk. There is a pause.

"Yeah…sure," an attempt at a laugh that falls flat and Newton is gone.

Hermann sighs, feeling the emptiness of the lab once again.

Newton had not questioned the strange tradition his English mother had instilled in him. Or at least, he hadn't objected.

_Vater_ did not approve of her coming in to read to him. He thought she encouraged Hermann's 'childish behaviors' by comforting him. His fear of the dark and the night had followed him until he was a teenager. Fortunately, when he had learned to read, Mother no longer had to help him through it.

His sister had sent him _The Poem Anthology_ in his first year at the PPDC with the note 'in case you get nightmares.' He could never tell if it was intended to be teasing or heartfelt, but he held onto the volume through three shatterdomes.

With Newton.

Hermann remembers those early days well. When the PPDC was still forming and calls were being put out to the best and brightest in an attempt to thinktank their way to a solution.

Hermann had helped build the Jaegers, helped write the code, helped draw up the blueprints.

He had enrolled in the newly minted Jaeger academy because he wanted to fight monsters. Even though now they were no longer under his bed, they were under the ocean floor; no longer hiding in darkness, but beneath the waves.

He had begun training at the academy for six months, alongside the other soon to be pilots, before he was informed he could not continue.

They needed his mind, not his body.

He was handicapped.

_Vater_ had just wanted to protect him.

He was given so many reasons, but none of them proved to be a suitable salve for the wounds left by the whole event.

Except those letters.

Newton had sent the first letter, right when he had enrolled in the academy. Dr. Newton Geiszler had read one of his papers on spatial rifts and quantum distortions and thought it was 'rad.' On paper the man was brilliant. A little scatterbrained and overly fond of modern linguistical terms, such as 'rad,' but brilliant all the same.

Newton asked him whether or not he had applied these theories to the breach; whether he had any knowledge of the physics required for creatures, such as the kaiju, to crawl out of such a breach, as well as a host of other various thoughts and ideas that all ran together in a steady stream.

He had responded quickly and thoroughly, and so began the lengthy email exchange, which spanned scientific as well as mathematical debates. He had written that he was in the jaeger program and Newton had said 'rock on'

When he had been removed from the Jaeger program he wrote to Newton, and the man's response was 'fuck them to hell, Hermann, you keep rocking on with your mathematical theories and it will be their loss.'

They had corresponded for another month or so before Hermann received his orders that he was being assigned to the Sydney Shatterdome to continue his research in tandem with the growing K-science division.

He had walked into that lab to see half of it spattered with actual kaiju entrails, and a man running around the middle of it looking disheveled, bespectacled, and tattooed. For all intensive purposes the man looked like a train wreck. He had grinned at Hermann,

"New guy, huh? Dr. Newton Geiszler, first kaiju-ologist…or well I am working on a better name…" he trailed off at the look of _horror_ on Hermann's face because this was the man he had been writing to? This man? He was playing some sort of offensively loud rock music from a stereo and the whole scene set his teeth on edge.

"Dr. Hermann Gottlieb," And it had been Newton's turn to go wide eyed.

It took them less than five minutes to have their first argument.

It took less than a week for Hermann to draw the first of many lines down the center of the floor, telling Newton to keep the kaiju entrails on his side of the lab.

It took less than a month for their colleagues (who joined them one by one over the coming weeks) to simply leave the room when voices began to get louder.

It was like this at the Moscow Shatterdome too.

But soon, budgets were cut. They could not afford to have teams anymore and assistants were let go. Then colleagues were handing over notes and leaving. The K-science team was back down to two.

They had relocated to Hong Kong and Raleigh Beckett had rejoined the fold. Him and Mako Mori had climbed into Gypsy Danger and helped avert an apocalypse.

Hermann and Newton had drifted.

Things had changed a great deal over the course of ten years; changed faster than Hermann could track and it alarmed him on far too many levels. He now found himself missing what had at least been a steady routine, even as the weight of impending destruction had weighed on him so heavily.

His cell phone begins to buzz on the desk

Mako has sent him a text.

/_Hey Hermann check out the interview we did for ACN. I am fairly certain I came off as mentally damaged_/

It startles a laugh from him as he stares at the tiny screen. He nimbly taps out a response.

/_Alright, but I am sure you wouldn't be the only one if that were true_/

He is already pulling up the ACN's web channel when his phone buzzes

/_Just tell me how bad it is please. I can't watch it_/

ACN's schedule informs him the interview should be coming up in a few minutes, so he sits and watches the news. He hasn't had time to pay attention to it as of late.

There's a lot of focus on the aftermath. Cleaning up after all the damages in Hong Kong and the surrounding areas.

There's a final discussion with a panel that grabs his attention. Most of them are discussing the future of the PPDC, whether it is right for it to get continued funding, whether it's necessary. One guest on the show chimes in about the possibility of a second breach. She has dark hair and cites his research, what little of it the PPDC released.

She is quickly drowned out by the financial debate, but he stares at her sitting in relative silence for the last minute of the segment. Like the rest of them, she smiles and nods as they go to commercial.

It leaves him feeling unsettled. There's a few ads, but thankfully they pass quickly. He cannot bear the tinny music and canned feeling of advertisements at the moment.

There's a brief title sequence introducing a talk show and it's host. A male interviewer is sitting in front of Mako and Mr. Beckett. Mako is tense and stiff in her seat. She fidgets with the hem of a very flattering floral dress they put on her. It makes the blue of her hair stand out.

Mr. Beckett is the picture of composure. He sits with his back straight but he does not appear stiff. He smiles at the interviewer and it appears thoroughly genuine.

"So, do you have any plans now that you've helped save the world?" The interviewer asks in a humorous if obnoxious manner. Beckett leans in, playfully conspiratorial.

"I planned on having a drink," he grins at the interviewer with more good humor and the other man laughs.

"And you, Ms. Mori?" she glances over at him and Beckett.

A moment passes in silence.

"I was planning on buying her a drink too!" Beckett interrupts with another attempt at levity that falls a little flat. Mako bites her lip. Beckett looks at her and the concern shows clear on his face. Maybe a little hurt too.

His phone buzzes

/_Are you watching it?_/

/_Patience if you please. I am watching it. You do not seem damaged; You seem anxious._/

/_Well that's true. Have you watched the whole thing?_/

/_Not yet. Am I to be your TV critic? I will do it if you ask, but I am certainly not the most qualified to criticize TV appearances._/

/_Just watch the rest_/

And the interviewer just began another question.

"So what's the Drift like?"

There's a silent moment where the two look at each other in tandem. Mako's hair temporarily hides her face from the camera. They stare at each other, but what passes between them is beyond verbal. Beckett faces forward slowly, uncertain. Mako is the one to speak, she faces forward, but does not look at the camera or the interviewer,

"It's hard…You are practically exposing yourself to this other person…it can be very difficult initially." Hermann winces knowing how fond people are of innuendo.

"It really can be a very eye opening experience" Beckett adds with a glance over at Mako, who has resumed toying with the hem of her dress.

The camera cuts to the interviewer making some sort of sincere expression. It might have been genuine, but Hermann had little patience for talk shows.

"And both of you have experienced great losses over the course of this fight," he says in a sympathizing tone, leaving the statement open for them to respond. Mako slowly clenches a fist in her lap and stares at the floor. Beckett looks at her and then seems to stare at the same spot of floor. It looks less odd when they both are staring at the floor. It looks like there is something there to see.

"Yes, we have. And we will move on in time," Beckett says softly. It's hard to tell who he is speaking to at that moment. He looks at Mako again before smiling for the host.

"The screen is saying it's time for a commercial," Beckett says, reverting to the teasing. The host laughs.

"So it is! When we get back from the break we have Bruce Willis to talk to us about Die Hard 6: Still Dying, right after these messages!"

/_Mostly it just seems like the pair of you have some unresolved tensions. You do not come off mentally deficient in any way._/ Hermann texts Mako.

/_We have two more shows tomorrow. I almost wish I had been eaten by a kaiju_/

/_It could be worse. Let Mr. Beckett carry the interviews. He seems quite good at it._/

/_He is, why Hermann WHY?_/

/_Well, he had practice._/

/_Hermann I know that I am… shouting why to the heavens_/

/_Oh. Does that help?_/

/_Not really but imagining myself shouting is a bit satisfying_/

/_It could be worse_/

/_How could it be worse Hermann?_/

/_I could be doing interviews with you instead of Mr. Beckett_/

/_Oh god. Sorry Hermann but oh god. I wouldn't speak and neither would you unless the interviewer asked an incorrect question. You would only speak to correct him._/

/_That sounds like an accurate scenario._/

/_Thank you Hermann_/

/_Your welcome Mako._/

He is about to put his phone away when it buzzes one more time

/_:)_ / He stares at the punctuation marks, knowing they are intended to look like a smiling face, and laughs a little to himself. He had never imagined this is what a saved world would look like; An unstable, worrisome colleague, and smiling faces sent via text.

Notes:

Comments are always appreciated.  
Also next chapter will mark the return of Gia! (I am the most excited about this by far) Also what may be several Newt centric chapters in a row.  
IRL things are sucking pretty hardcore right now so like...I started writing the next chapter but we will see how long it takes :/


	17. Chapter 17

**Corrected by Thepsychoticchef**  
**Apologies in advance. I can only shout from the rooftops I KNOW NO SCIENCE. I did a little research and the rest is entirely made up please don't read this for the science it would make you so sad.**

**Chapter 17**

Newt wakes up feeling dread in the pit of his stomach as he stumbles out of bed in the clothes he wore yesterday because he _does not care._

He feels the weight of his fear in his arms and in his stomach. He feels it in his shaking fingers and in his temples that haven't _stopped pounding_ in what seems like days.

He tastes his fear in that sour tang that's sitting on his tongue. A mix of 'he really should have brushed his teeth last night' and something else that isn't actually in the air he's breathing but it feels like it is.

He smells his fear in the musty festering smell of old sweat that overwhelms him when he decides he should at least change his shirt.

He sees his fear, red on his fingertips, when he tentatively prods at his nose. He sees it stained an ugly dark color on his pillow case where it's dried overnight.

He hears his fear in the stuttery sound of his breathing and the hammering of his heart beat. And then he sighs because standing here will only prolong what is inevitable.

He gets his sorry ass over to medical in a moderately timely fashion.

Upon entering the room he sees Caitlin set up at a table taking notes. She looks up when he enters.

"Hello Dr. Geiszler. Today I thought we might start by running a few tests to get a baseline. Dr. Siddiq will handle that part." She nods to somewhere behind him and he turns to see, oh look it's Gia the anarchist lab tech.

And she is giving him an _ugly _look. What? What did he do to deserve that look? To be fair he can be quite a dick on a regular basis but Newt's pretty sure he has been doing _great _for the last day or so. Hermann actually read him _poetry _yesterday for goodness sakes he must be doing _something _right.

She does not speak and simply turns down a hall with the clear expectation that he should follow.

"Where's that other doctor guy?"

"Reassigned."

"Oh." It's a shame since tall, light, and bland was probably perfectly capable at his job. Gia does not speak again until they've entered the room with the MRI machine.

"We'll be getting a few new faces in here as the powers that be move us around to suit them," Gia says and it comes out dripping like hydrochloric disdain. Newt looks at her and then at the machine.

The machine looks remarkably unused except for a large dent in the side. It's an open MRI with the raised portion behind the head rest and the large extension that hangs mere inches above the bed. Newt feels his stomach tighten a little at the sight of it.

Now Gia turns to face him with her hands digging into her hips.

"Were you not listening _at all _the other day. I told you to _stay away from here. _Why the hell did you agree to this? Are you actually insane?" she says it all quickly and in a way that reminds him of Hermann a little. It makes him feel almost like laughing even as his temples pound and his eyes sting.

She is still staring at him with her dark eyes and a few strands of dark hair poking out from the light blue fabric of her hijab.

Newt wishes he could say something funny at this moment but all he can think of is swallowing past the rock in his throat. She turns away abruptly and comes back with a tissue. Another nosebleed apparently, he is on fire today.

Like a house on fire and nobody has a fire extinguisher.

She appears less severe now as he mops at his nose without any delicacy and doesn't care that it stings.

"I_ was_ listening. I might be insane. If I didn't do it they were going to ask Hermann...Dr. Gottlieb" he amends the last part, but he isn't sure why. She is still staring but the rage has been replaced with something tight-lipped and resigned.

"I see," is all she says as she lets her hands drop into the pockets of her lab coat.

"By the way Hermann doesn't know about this. Any of it. I want it to stay that way." He says the last bit with as much authority as he can muster and she simply continues to stare at him, her mouth twisting a little.

"This is a trainwreck in the making," she states. He nods and laughs a little.

"Yeah it is but I'm pretty sure I've got The Marshall and Caitlin to agree that if they fail with me they won't continue with this line of research."

Gia sighs and shakes her head.

"Let's get this going, lie down on the bed." She turns away from him as she fiddles with the controls and Newt stares at it. He thinks that Hermann probably would not have an issue with such a thing and it's stupid because it's not closed it's not _that _bad.

He lies down on the bed and stares up at the wide expanse of the MRI's upper attachment that sits flat like a low ceiling just inches above his nose. His heart pounds a little as he inhales slowly and reminds himself there is enough air to breath.

If he spread his arms wide he could not reach the edges of this thing. Maybe that's what fucks him up even though the likelihood of this thing actually crushing him is probably in the decimal percentages. But still he sits and stares at it and wonders if he can breathe.

"Close your eyes for goodness sake," Gia interrupts his panic with pure irritation. She would get along _so well _with Hermann.

"The MRI is starting so _do not move_," Newt feels mildly offended by this since _duh _he isn't a total moron of course he can't move it's an MRI. But he isn't sure he can breath, speak, and keep still at the same time so he settles for taking a deep unsteady breath and he hears Gia sigh.

She leaves the room and then comes back with something he can't see because it would require him turning his head and he can't do that right now.

MRI's might be the devil.

Apparently it's a imusic, because the room is now filled with the sound of…is this from Lord of the Rings? He is sure this played when Frodo went to Lothlorien.

"Yes it's a soundtrack and yes it's Lord of the Rings. It would probably be wise if you continued to be quiet."

Newt shuts his eyes and listens to the haunting vocals. Soon that shifts to…this was Rohan music. Possibly Return of the King.

So Gia listens to Lord of the Rings music. That is not what he would have guessed and it isn't necessarily his music of choice but he mentally applauds her life choices. She sits in a chair near the screen and doesn't speak. But in the corner of his eye he can see her occasionally bobbing her head to beat of the music.

So he sits. He listens. He breathes.

Towards the end Gia sits in a chair next to the machine and fixes him with a piercing look and he shuts his eyes so he doesn't turn to look at her.

Something dings and she says,

"The MRI is done, you can move now." And for a moment he doesn't. He just sits and imagines being crushed by the MRI. But she interrupts him

"What your doing is stupid, you know that right?"

"Probably," he says like a sigh. She continues to stare and her expression is unreadable.

She reaches over and rests a hand softly on his arm for a moment. A squeeze and it's gone.

"Get up Geiszler, time for the CT scan," as he stands he grumbles,

"How many pictures do you plan to take of my brain?"

"A lot. Be grateful she is being thorough at least," she replies.

"Meh."

They leave the MRI room and go to a standard examination room. She lays him down on this bed and goes to fetch the machine. He stares at the speckles ceiling that manages to look like the speckles ceiling of every doctors office _ever _do they all shop at the same ceiling store? What is that even?

Gia returns, wheeling the EEG computer in and all those electrodes. She begins attaching them to his forehead when she says,

"You know, I hate to break it to you, but if Hansen and Lightcap are already doing this against their will I doubt that giving their word will be enough to stop the PPDC from keeping this up." Newt turned to stare at her with wide eyes and alarm.

"I think you should consider that. Even if they leave Hermann out of this, people are freaked and somebody, somewhere is going to get roped into this."

She says it like fact and it puts an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach because its true and he wishes it weren't.

After the EEG she runs a CT scan and finally after what seems like ages he stumbles into the room they've set up for the drift. A piece of Raiju's brain floats in a huge glass jar not unlike the one from his lab.

He considers pickles.

Caitlin is sitting in a chair looking through a file. She is seated near a mess of wires and equipment that looks only slightly better than what he whipped up a few days ago.

He wants to vomit but finds reasons not to. Like feeling even shittier. His temples pound as a less than gentle reminder that he doesn't need bile too.

"So overall you've got some abnormalities, that can't be avoided." Caitlin says to the readouts in her hands. Newt can't help but noticed one of her fingernails is torn and scabbed.

Newt has no answer so he just stands and tries not to vomit. Gia is hovering somewhere behind him.

"The fact is your neural pathways are overworked and that also can't be fixed so I would like to do this in stages over the next few days." As she speaks she looks at him. Or next to him. She does not make eye contact.

"Just putting you in the Pons and turning it on will stimulate those pathways, so today we are just going to do that. The hope is that we might be able to ease you into the drift."

She looks tired and her hands hold the papers a little too tightly. She is crinkling the edges.

Newton attempts a grin in her direction and fails.

"You wanted to take more time with this didn't you?" he asks and she resumes staring at the papers in her hands.

"The public wishes to celebrate our victory but Dr. Gottlieb predicted another breach and the PPDC fears it could be tomorrow. This project is under their supervision and subject to their oversight. We are fortunate I was able to get them to agree to give you several days to work up to a full drift." She says it all in a steely tone that is pure fact and nothing else.

But it looks to Newton Geiszler like Caitlin is crinkling at the edges.

"Well I suppose we should get started then?" he asks and she does not meet his eyes.

"When we progress to the more intense testing I will have doctors standing by," she says. Newt is nodding again and feels oddly like he wants to say sorry.

She's only a few years older than he is. And not that much taller.

If he had a sister, she might be close to Caitlin's age.

He sits in the chair and grips the arm rests as Caitlin attaches the Pons helmet.

Gia stands in the doorway and watches, tightly wound with nothing to do.

It comes as a small shock when Caitlin finally makes eye contact, "Are you ready?"

He nods and she turns to the wall of dials and flicks the switch.

**Oh Caitlin...this is an unhappy Lightcap. I think Gia is actually taking note of how the Pons equipment is set up and stuff for future reference.**  
**And Newt is very scared.**  
**Sorry for the ending...maybe...**


	18. Chapter 18

**Corrected by Thepsychoticchef ^_^**

**Chapter 18**

Anger and anxiety are invariably intertwined when it comes to dealing with Newton Gieszler; a man who quite possibly has more intelligence than actual sense.

He wants to help Newton or strangle him. Often he feels both in profound simultaneity. Of course there is another applicable A-word in this mess, but Hermann refuses to consider it because the other two are far more than he can handle already.

"_You would do that for me? Or you would…you would do that with me?"_

One of the final exchanges before the drift rings ominous in his memory. He sees the event from doubled viewpoints and it is staggering and confusing.

He wishes he could measure and quantify what it is that he thinks and feels, but it defies all logical forms of appraisal. Newton is worse today and it is beginning to alarm him.

For roughly ten years the solution to their issues has been mostly solitude. Maybe it hurt a little more for Hermann to bear his problems alone, but he would have defied anyone's attempts to help so it was better this way for certain. Meanwhile, Newton seemed to run on pure bravado, and Hermann always assumed that when the cracks were showing he would prefer privacy.

But now he has a fragment from before the drift, and it keeps coming back to him from mirrored perspectives. A glimpse of hope, fear, and other feelings he can't quite name. So much of it is fear.

Coupled with the day before and Newton's episode, neither of them has acknowledged it, but he can still recall the sensation of the man's pulse racing beneath his fingertips.

But what does it all add up to? An equation where all variables are unknown cannot have a real solution.

And, Newton is worse today.

Newton comes in around 2PM and goes straight for his desk. He seems jittery and unsteady. Given the last few days this isn't new, and yet it is like somebody has taken a proverbial knob and turned it up. He keeps picking things up and dropping them. A pencil, a notebook, his cell phone.

When a mug shatters, spilling coffee everywhere, Hermann finds himself standing and getting paper towels while Newton just stands there and stares at it.

It is only when Hermann makes to get on his knees and mop up the mess that Newton even moves. He grabs the wad of paper towels and starts talking as he kneels on the ground.

"Thanks, dude. I don't know what's with my hands today. Hands are really weird, you know?" He begins mopping up the coffee and Hermann gets a broom for the shards of the mug. Thank god it's ceramic. Newton is still talking.

"I mean, have you ever thought about your metacarpal versus your carpal bones? I mean this is such a precise structure, if the tiniest bit of it is off the whole thing ceases to function."

Newton is barely making any sense, but he has mopped up the bulk of the coffee with shaking hands, so Hermann sweeps up the shards and says nothing. He tries not to focus on the knot forming in his chest. The knot that's been forming for the last several days. This behavior is not new and there is no reason to jump to conclusions based on…instincts.

Newton would. Newton would. But, he is not Newton, and he does not jump to conclusions. He sits, gathers data, and makes an informed hypothesis. He doesn't have enough data to support this growing anxiety that has no cause for existence.

'_I have a bad feeling about this,'_ his new found knowledge of pop-culture informs him. In that particularly absurd series of films, people always ran on instinct because of some mystical religion…why was he thinking about Star Wars?

"Basically your adductors and your opponens are pretty cool, but, like…really who came up with those freaky long names? Well half of it's Latin, or Greek anyway…" Newton trails off into silence. Something catches his gaze and he is suddenly far too still and staring at nothing in particular, with an intensity that is strange.

That knot tightens still further.

"Newton," he says quietly. Newton jerks like he's been burned.

"What? Sorry, I lost track, did you say something?" He grins and it's manic.

Hermann shakes his head and goes back to his desk, because he doesn't know what to say and he doesn't know what to _do_.

Newton is doing research with Dr. Lightcap, the woman who invented the drift technology. She must notice that something is wrong. Or perhaps she doesn't. Perhaps she is too involved in whatever this research is that they are doing. He tries not to think too hard about how Newton is getting any research done in such a state. He tries not to think about why he is in such a state.

Newton said they were researching alternative methods of extracting information about the kaiju. Hermann wants to trust him on that. Wants to trust that he couldn't do anything stupider than what he had already done.

He picks up his phone and considers texting Mako, but how can text on a screen communicate this deep sense of dread? This unshakable feeling that something is very, very wrong.

He feels anger at what he cannot fix and cannot solve. He rages at the problems that cannot be coded and defined.

Ever since the drift he finds the anger comes more easily to him. He has always felt it, a lot of it in fact, but now it comes to him in two separate iterations.

One is endless and animal and disturbing. Alongside it is the equally endless well of impotent anger unexpressed; always contained, always hidden behind sarcasm and a crisp insult.

He feels so very angry, and the fact that he has no direct target for it only infuriates him further. Newton is not the problem, he is either a victim of it or part of its solution, and Hermann can't figure out which it is.

All he knows is that Newton is worse today. This, more than anything else, causes him so much anger he has difficulty focusing on the numbers and the calm they usually provide.

Anger and anxiety are his only friends as Newton seems incapable of sense or basic coordination.

When Newton finally makes his way out of the lab, like a drunk or a small child who does not fully understand the concept of 'legs,' Hermann finally sighs.

He does not feel angry. His anger left with the man who wasn't the cause.

'_I feel you dude,'_ says a small voice in his head that is only an echo of the man who just left. Sadly that echo sounds far better than it's real counterpart.

Hermann sighs again. He is so tired and he isn't angry.

He is scared.

He grips the phone in his hand because he needs to tell someone. Tell them what?

His phone vibrates and he startles in his seat.

It's a text from Mako

/I don't know how much more of this I can take/

Good god. What has her been day been like? Could it have been worse than his own? Quite possibly.

He stares at the screen for a long moment before typing a response.

/Me neither./

Less than a minute later his phone actually rings. He answers on the first ring.

"Hermann," her voice sounds strained to breaking.

"Yes, Mako," he says softly, wondering how he sounds to her.

"Me too."

Then there is only silence as they listen to each other breathe.

He can hear her the telltale hitch in her inhale. She is starting to cry. He rests his head in his hand because he is tempted to do the same.

"Do you think it will get better?" she asks between soft hiccupping sobs.

Hermann sits and contemplates the idea. For her and for himself.

"I don't know"

He wishes he could be there to provide some sort of comfort; an embrace or something meaningful. He wishes Pentacost were still alive to protect Mako from the pain that came from living in days like these. He wishes nobody had ever drifted and that things were still simple and clean. Free from all the anxiety and the anger and the wreckage left in their wake.

He wishes for a world where he can walk on two good legs; a world where he never met a Dr. Newton Geiszler.

He wishes for all the things he cannot have and more, because it is all he can do.

Imagines all the wishes clutched in his hands like strings leading nowhere.

Mako is still crying softly in his ear. He considers asking what happened. How all these interviews are going. How it must be to stand next to Raleigh when just looking at him feels like being burned.

Instead he says, "I'm sorry," and he can hear her hiccup another sob or maybe something else.

"Me too, Hermann…for you."

He doesn't know what to say to that so he sits and listens as he stops crying and gets herself under control.

"How much longer do you have on the tour?" he asks and she sighs.

"I've decided not to count days until they are in the single digits."

"Seems like a wise plan," he tells her.

"And how about you, Hermann? How are you doing?" her voice is gentle in his ears. He stares at his desk and ponders the question.

"Newton is worse today. Dr. Caitlin Lightcap is here to do research on the kaiju." The words come out barely connected by a sigh.

"Oh wow, Dr. Lightcap," Mako says with an attempt at lightness for both their sakes. He humors her since dwelling on the problem isn't getting him very far.

"Yes, it was nice to get to see her again. Perhaps at some point we can have a discussion about Pons technology. It would be fascinating I'm sure."

"You should ask her if all the rumors are true." He can hear the hint of a smile in her voice. She is very good at this. His lips twitch at the corners, practically of their own accord.

"Surely after all these years the stories have been somewhat blown out of proportion," he says.

"Oh come on, everybody says her and Sergeant D'onofrio were an item. He was seizing during that experiment, she plugged in a second Pons helmet, and bam the invention of drifting," there is sincere enthusiasm as she recounts the supposed events.

"It is a gripping tale," he says with a hint of aridity which she ignores.

"It's more than gripping. Stacker always said it was true…" she trails off suddenly and Hermann does not know what to say.

The silence reigns for a long moment.

"Do you want me to go? …I don't want to…" Hermann struggles to express what he means.

"No, I think I would like some company right now," she says, her voice cracking incrementally.

Hermann wishes he was better at this.

He begins to speak and hopes that words, any words, might be comforting. He talk softly and even manages to occasionally work up a thin veneer of his usual levels of disdain for the world he inhabits.

He asks her about classical music. He talks about his favorite mathematical functions (he is very fond of pi). He discusses what little he's been getting from watching the news about the current status of the PPDC. He tells Mako about reading poetry to Newton, about his hyperactive speech and new found tendency of dropping everything in sight. He even reads her a few verses from The Poem Anthology.

After about an hour where she barely spoke and he continued talking, because it was better than silence; Because she had asked him to stay, and because he was making an effort. What else could he do in this situation? Finally, she interrupted him midstream while describing why he really preferred his dusty chalkboard to a digital one.

"Hermann," she says and he stops speaking. He had been beginning to wonder if she had fallen asleep.

"Thank you." The words startle him a little and he sits and says nothing for several moments.

"You are welcome"

They say goodbye and hang up, and then Hermann is alone in the lab again. Alone with his thoughts, his anger, and his endless anxiety.

**So I keep surprising myself by finding there is more Hermann POV than I thought there would be.**

**Also all that stuff Newton is spouting. He is talking about bones and muscles in the hand and not making a ton of sense.**  
**And sorry I made Mako cry...god I want to hug her at this point.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter corrected by the lovely and talented Thepsychoticchef**

**Chapter 19**

So, Newt thinks that maybe humans weren't meant to drift. Maybe they weren't structurally built for it.

Because drifting is never a good thing. Drifting in space, in the ocean, drifting out into the endless vast nothing of a void.

Just look at the definition of drift: to be carried along by currents of water or air, or by the force of circumstances. To wander aimlessly.

Yeah…

Carried along by circumstance. To wander without aim.

None of that sounds very awesome. In fact, it sounds awful. Who would want that? His hands haven't stopped shaking for hours.

H gets the metaphorical significance of the term. They say 'don't follow the rabbit,' don't get stuck, don't get caught in your partners mind or in god knows what else. One has to just sit and let go as the currents fly by. Of course, no one ever considers the currents eroding as they go. Well they wouldn't, would they?

Pilots get trained for this. There are schools for this. They drift on tested equipment, not stuff they threw together with their own two hands because there was a world ending deadline hanging over them. He has difficulty holding a steady train of thought. Maybe he's been hit by a train? A brain train. That sounds kind of cool actually, good band name for somebody musically inclined.

Hermann could start a band called Brain Train where they only play classical music and all their lyrics are stuff written by dead poets.

Dead Poet's society was a pretty cool movie…Carpe diem, seize_—_

—_Body's crushing underfootbodies in the way everywhere vermin—_

—the day. Wait, what?

Hermann's been giving him some odd looks in the last day or so, he knows that, but does he suspect what Newt's doing with his day?

He is in the medical bay now.

And he hasn't really slept…probably for the last 2 days…or maybe 3?

He still isn't doing so well on the eating side of things either.

Newton Geiszler: a failure of survival instincts.

Darwin would look at him and laugh.

So, Gia has traded in her face melting rage look for something a little less sharp. Still pretty pissed, but he thinks it might not be directed at him anymore. She had done a second round of scans earlier today.

Caitlin looks exhausted staring at his results, and he wonders if faces can get new lines in a day, or if he didn't notice them the day before.

"So, no physical abnormalities, that's good…" She says with a brief glance in his direction  
"You have probably noticed we've got Raiju's brain all hooked up."

He did notice that some poor soul must have put on a hazmat suit, or something on, and hopped into that tank with the massive piece of floating brain and placed electrodes all over it. Presumably this is part of her more advanced human+kaiju drift interface, and sure, electrodes might have helped. He had been in a bit of a hurry though, so nobody is going to judge him for skipping the electrodes, right? He just boosted a few sensory inputs and data streams. Maybe added a bit here or there. It was no big thing.

Caitlin's been talking this whole time, he should listen to that

"So no neural handshake today. I'm holding off on that. We're just going to turn the machine on with both you and…well…"

Neural handshake…God, that was one hell of a phrase because who_—_

—_Father stared at him like he was a foreign thing. He was old enough now to understand that his father had probably had children more for the sake of having them, than actually wanting them.  
He was standing there trying to discuss his AS Level results with him. Discussing the possibility of going to school in the country or elsewhere. Possibly Germany.  
Father seemed barely interested. His eyes continually flicking back to his computer and whatever he was working on.  
"You're old enough to make your own decision"—_

—invented that phrase and it sort of made…sense…what was he thinking just now? Caitlin's talking. Has she been talking this whole time? Maybe.

He had a thought yesterday about her…what was it? Ah,

"Hey, shouldn't I be signing lots of papers saying you and the PPDC aren't responsible if I die? Or…something?" The words tumble out, tripping over each other as they go and then abruptly slowing down as uncertainty holds them back.

Caitlin's response is a rare moment of steady eye contact.

"Yes, you probably should," and with that she returns to fiddling with the instruments in front of her. Newt's hand twitches a little at the sight of it. He so wants a chance to fiddle. To examine how she put this together to make it work.

But that does seem like a lot of work at the moment. He is suddenly remembering the chorus of 'It's a Hard Knock Life,' which is weird, because he _hated _Annie.

"So, are you ready?" She's there in front of him looking frayed and exhausted. One hand rests on the armrest of his chair. There's dried blood sitting on tattered nail beds and the skin on her knuckles looks red and irritated.

He nods at her hands because her eyes are kind of hard to take at the moment.

The hand retreats and she is back to her wall of dials and things that he can't play with because he is the one in the chair about to go round 2 with the machine. Round 2 plus a kaiju.

She flicks the switch and it's like somebody is flooding is brain with light and heat and something electric. It was like this yesterday, but it feels more intense today. Like there's something new in the currents that he can't pick up on, but it's there and it's waiting for him.

Caitlin is watching him closely. Watching readouts and watching him.

He wonders if steam might fly out of his ears, like the cartoons he used to watch on Saturday morning, because who didn't watch The Looney Tunes at least once?

Caitlin asks him something and he makes some noise in response.

The currents start in his brain and work their way through him. He feels like he is on fire.

Fire that burns

Crackles

Crackles and burns

Burns and crackles.

Finally i s.

R el ie f

Pal pabl e re lief.

He is so ti re d.

Yet he feels full of energy that needs an outlet.

His hands shake. His nose is bleeding.

Caitlin is calling his name. Gia has stepped into the room, brows knitted in …something…he forgets the word.

"Dr. Geiszler, can you respond?" She may have asked this more than once.

"Yes," he nods and regrets it.

She sighs, "Can you elaborate?"

He stands because he is sick of sitting and overbalances. Caitlin catches him.

"Um…I feel…ok?" It comes out like a question and Caitlin is frowning at him.

"Go back to your quarters. Go rest. I'm going to see if I can get you tomorrow off. I will send somebody for you if needed." She says this all in a matter a fact way, but she is still sort of holding Newt off the ground.

Gia is suddenly there with a tissue. She grabs him by the shoulder to steady him and shoves the tissue into his hand. He stares at it for a moment before recalling what its function is.

"I can walk you to your room if you need," she offers and Newt waves the offer away with an unsteady hand and a bloody tissue.

"Dude, I'm not 5. Let me know if you need me tomorrow and stuff." He says it all a bit too quickly. The words sound slightly off in his ears, but he just turns and tries to walk out the door like the floor isn't moving beneath his feet.

He does not go back to his room because he is not stupid. There is nothing in his room but silence and a severe lack of windows. Plus, he still has to go to the lab and convince Hermann nothing is wrong.

Because nothing is wrong.

Everything is _fine._

Everything is _awesome_.

He is currently walking on a floor that seems determined to make him lose him balance, and fuck you too floor, by the way. But whatever, he is walking like a pro and it's awesome.

He gets to the lab and feels more than sees Hermann turn to look at him.

He should turn on some music, because there is silence and it is _heavy_.

He could start talking, but he doesn't really trust his tongue.

The moment passes as Hermann goes back to whatever he was doing. The sound of chalk against board fills the room and wow Newt is t ir e d.

What's he supposed to even be doing right now?

He is sitting.

He could just sit her,e nobody is stopping him, it's just that he wonders why he should be sitting. Why do people sit anyway? How come people haven't invented a way to fly already for crying out loud, they have build giant robots but nobody has invented a jet pack? What the hell is this? Gene Roddenberry would be so disappointed. Wait Star Trek didn't have jetpacks, and Roddenberry would have so much more to be disappointed about considering his visions of a futuristic utopia hadn't included giant aliens ravaging the planet, because on Star Trek that shit just got beamed into space. Or reasoned with, or…well, mind melding is a bit like a one sided drift. Although creepier when the non Vulcan doesn't quite consent to it, so that's weird and—

—_All that training; six months with extra physical therapy in the hopes to combat the strain. Six months of pushing to prove that he could keep u,p but they kicked him out anyway well they can go to hel_—_Feel them crush bones breaking underfootdie slowly drippin_—_He stares at the sky. At the billions of stars and he feels small surrounded by a vast infinity of_—_eviscerate erasethem from this planet_—_He pushes his glasses farther up his nose because nobody is listening to him, and the numbers are there. The numbers do not lie they_—_teeth tearingflesh open blood dripping they arenot dying fast enoug_—

—The re is h i k

He is in the lab.

He barely remembers his first drift.

He does not remember his second drift.

Is the whole Shatterdome spinning?

He wishes it wouldn't

He feels sick.

He get's several more flashes in the following minutes. Bodies and death and loving it with every fiber of his being. Numbers and equations and the safety of chalk. Tattoos being drawn sharply and a leg that hurts too much.

He can't quite keep it all straight because his head hurts like hell. He can't quite figure out who loved mass destruction and who watched Godzilla every Saturday night for a year when he was 10. Somebody had a father who seemed perpetually disappointed in his existence and somebody had a mother that was periodically terrifying and awesome at uneven intervals.

Somebody wanted to bring about the end of all other races. Somebody really just wanted to sit down and drink something alcoholic.

His hands are still shaking so he puts them in his lap. He feels a dripping on his upper lip and, with an uncoordinated swipe, he wipes blood away.

He sits like that for…awhile.

He does not hear his name called 3 times with shorter intervals and increased agitation.

He is vaguely aware of the sound of a cane tapping against concrete.

His head hurts.

"_Newton._" How many times has Hermann said his name? Now it's very close and the volume startles him so badly he nearly falls out of his chair.

There's a hand on his shoulder and another hand spins his chair around so he is facing Hermann.

This is new.

This is…

Hermann's expression is so…

Irritation is no longer present, as if some other feeling has finally annexed his features and taken up residence.

This is new.

His mouth is tight and so is the skin around his eyes. His brows are furrowed.

"Newton, _are you all right?_" Judging by his tone he has been asked this several times.

He makes a monosyllabic noise in response because he doesn't really trust his own vocal chords, and also everything hurts. Starting from his skull and radiating out, everything hurts in a dull pounding, spasming sort of way.

Hermann places a hand against his forehead and his mouth tightens still further. His hand is cool and dry and Newt can't help but shut his eyes.

This is new.

"And you're still adamant about avoiding the medical bay?" the question is soft, on the edge of something else.

The question…about medical bay. That's a no, _no_ to medical bay. No to _Hermann _in medical bay. Maybe if he can just keep Hermann away from this it will all work out. They won't find some way to strong arm him into doing something this stupid.

Because if by some miracle Hermann said no, Newt has the distinct impression that the PPDC might find some subtle suggestive thing that would force Hermann to say yes like he had.

He is shaking his head aggressively in response(and regretting it instantly) and the man sighs.

"Well, you need to lie down. I can take you back to your room?"

His room; alone in the dark being flooded by all the thoughts that aren't his. The thought of being alone.

He shakes his head again and Hermann sighs…again.

"The couch will do, I suppose." He steps back and stares at Newt, expecting something. Newt stares at him blankly. Another sigh and then Hermann reaches over and grips him around the elbow, levering him out of the chair and steering him towards the couch. Hermann's grip is firm and stronger than Newt would have suspected…if he had been thinking about such things.

When they come to the couch, Newt drops on it like melting wax, and Hermann is standing over him radiating tension.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then Hermann speaks,

"Newton, this may sound silly to you, but you haven't uttered a full sentence since you entered this room. I would appreciate it very much if you would_ say something_." Newt rolls over a little to stare at Hermann from a more comfortable angle. Hermann is still tightlipped and showing that strange expression.

"Just so I know you _can_," he adds for emphasis. Newt stares a little longer, giving the other man a brief longitudinal glance up and down his frame.

"Are you ok? You look weird," Newt asks because it's not that he can't speak, it's that his head and everything hurts like hell and he is choosing not to speak. He would be more than a little offended by the implications of Hermann's request if it weren't for the fact that…well…he hadn't exactly been the paragon of normalcy for the last few days, so it was a fair point.

Hermann is acting strange, and that look painted all over him is new and kind of weird.

Maybe it's…concern?

Is this new?

Meanwhile, his question seems to have broken some line of tension in Hermann, because with yet another sigh he walks away from the couch and over to his desk. He is just made of sighs today, as though dealing with Newt inflates him full of exasperated exhalations.

He is rifling through some drawers and Newt is beginning to wonder if Hermann's desk is secretly like Mary Poppin's handbag…or the TARDIS.

He should probably never admit to knowing about Mary Poppins if he wants to keep up his reputation as a rockstar with indie punk aesthetic.

Hermann goes into that little hidden kitchenette area that's somewhere behind their mess of chalkboards and storage tanks.

Now, he comes back with a glass of water and two little white tablets in his hands.

"Acetaminophen," Hermann says as he places the cup in Newt's left hand and tips the pills into his right. Seems like a good idea, so Newt downs the pills with a gulp of water and then finds the cup removed.

Hermann places it on the floor next to the couch. From somewhere he produces a thermometer.

Where did that even come from? Have they had a first aid kit in the kitchenette this whole time? That would have been good to know…a lot of times in the past few years.

He sticks the end in Newt's mouth without waiting for any kind of invitation, and so Newt stares at the digital readout sitting below his nose. After a minute, it beeps and Hermann takes the thermometer and reads the results. His mouth twists and he sighs again, looking sad and worried and … something else.

"39.38 Celsius" he murmurs looking over at Newt and then looking away.

A moment passes where Hermann just stands there, not looking at him, not walking away. His frame is still and uncertain.

Finally, he rests a hand on Newt's forehead, and this time he lets it rest there a moment longer. Newt's eyes are closing because everything hurts and sleep is probably a good idea. For once, he wants to have a good idea and implement it.

Hermann's fingertips are resting gently near his temple and his hair. His touch is feather light as he slides his fingers through Newt's unruly hair, pushing it off of his forehead. He repeats the motion once more. Newt tips his head back, enjoying the simple sensation.

Hermann makes some noise, like a sigh, but quieter. A gentle exhalation as his hand finally leaves Newt's hair and forehead.

He hears the steady tap of Hermann's cane moving away and he's too tired to watch him go. But he is surprised when he hears the squeak of a chair being dragged. He cracks one eye open to see Hermann settling into a chair beside the couch with a notebook in his lap and a pen in hand.

He glances up once at Newt and makes a quiet noise of irritation.

"Oh, go to sleep, Newton."

Newton stares at him for a long moment, studying this new or not new expression.

He shuts his eyes.

This is new.

Because, it isn't concern written all over Hermann's features. Concern is there too, a neighbor to the many emotions that play out too subtly for Newt to detect or understand, because Hermann has depths that Newt is only just beginning to understand. The guy has so much more going on than he has ever given the man credit for.

So …it's not concern…

_No_…mostly…

It's fear.

**38 whatever celsius is about 102 farenheight. Also wow this was long and um...Yeah it might have been a little hard to read since Newt was waaaay more...distractable? Not with it? Yeah well either way, trying to reflect his mental state= some weird writing.**


End file.
